


Lay Miserables

by Xenovia



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Les Misérables AU, and sometimes you repost that fic when youre 21, sometimes you write self indulgent fic when youre 15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenovia/pseuds/Xenovia
Summary: As Ex Convict Hershel Layton breaks parole in order to live a new life, he is caught up in a world of Revolution, rebellion and Fatherhood. (Les Mis au)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another repost of an old fanfic that was on FF.net, it's not completed but I'm tempted to come back to it and write the last couple of chapters cause I like writing it 
> 
> full explanation for this fic at the end

The waves crashed against the walls, the icy spray hitting the faces of those who stood there. The wreckage of the airship that had crashed into near the shore, The Bostonius, was a far heavier task than anyone had expected, the few that were newer to the work would cry out in pain each time the ropes they pulled grazed their hands, while the men who'd spend half of their lives doing it barely flinched. The similar dirt and unkempt hair brought on from the years of suffering made each prisoner near impossible to tell apart from one another, most probably couldn't even remember how they looked before their arrest.

Atop the walls, Inspector Jean Descole watched them with a keen eye, the black lenses of his mask giving no indication of contentment nor disgust. He spotted in the centre of the crowd the convict he was searching for, and he continued watching him as the prisoners were called away from the work. He swiftly moved down to where they walked in single file and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Prisoner 1919. Correct?" The other man turned to look at him, his weary eyes widening in surprise when he realised who he was faced with. He nodded quickly, wondering why he had been singled out. "Fetch that mast." He instructed, signalling to the large wooden post which had been thrown to the ground. The convict muttered something and waded through the water towards it, the rags we wore weighing him down. He bent down and hoisted the mast onto his shoulder with ease, the years as a slave had made this merely a basic task for him. The inspector studied him as he moved, noticing how easily he managed. When the prisoner returned back to his place, Descole looked him over and handed him a yellowed piece of parchment. "Now, 1919. It has been 19 years today since you were arrested. I assume you know what that means." The other man would have smiled if he weren't so exhausted.  
"Yes. It means I'm free." Relief washed over him, this nightmare was finally over.  
"No." Descole smirked at the man as he watched his spirit sink; they were always so unaware of the world's workings. "Follow down to the entrance to receive your itinerary, and remember to show them this badge. It warns you a dangerous man."

"I'm not a dangerous man; I only stole a loaf of bread. It was to save my brother's daughter. She was starving-"

"You've spent the last 19 winters a criminal. You'd better get used to it, because the title will stay with you until you die. Remember that 1919." The newly released prisoner glared at him, clenching the paper between his fingers.  
"My name is Hershel Layton." He was no longer a slave to this inspector, and refused to be treated as one. The inspector to a step closer so that his mask was near enough touching Layton's face.  
"And mine's Descole. Do not forget that. And do not forget me" He jabbed a finger at his chest. "1919." He swung around and began barking orders at the other workers, leaving Layton with his thoughts. He looked back at the crowds, as the inmates looked over in anger and jealousy, then made his way over to the entrance.

* * *

 

It had been weeks since Hershel had been released from his prison, but he was slowly learning that being free wasn't the same as having freedom. He'd been to workplace after workplace, but every time people saw his badge they turned him away, even when he was merely walking by their establishment. He wondered if this was to be his life now, just wandering between each hateful town until his death. That was until he came by the Puzzle shack.

The Puzzle shack was an old cottage on the outskirts of London, nobody knew who lived there but there were many rumours flying about, many impolite and wild rumours. That was the very reason why Hershel chose this as his place to stay, if the inhabitants were so isolated by the rest of the world, they would have no reason to hate someone like him. In fact, they'd probably welcome his company. And he was right.

The place was run by an elderly woman, who Hershel soon learned was named Granny Riddleton. She ushered him in and quickly placed a bowl of warm food on the table, along with a couple of puzzles to ease his mind. He wolfed down his meal, earning him several disapproving looks from Riddleton's granddaughter, while the old woman herself just smiled and offered him more.

He'd never be able to explain why he'd ever tried to commit a crime against her, when she was so forgiving to him. Yet away he ran in the middle of the night with a bag full of her silverware and golden hint coins. It was just a plan he had concocted after seeing all the kindness and warmth of the Puzzle shack, he wasn't ready to return to his cold penniless life back in the city. Two blank faced officers had dragged him back to the front doors and thrown him at Riddleton's feet, retelling his theft and insulting him.

"Mam, we've got your belongings here, had the nerve to say you gave him this. As if anyone would just give away hintcoins."

"Why yes. He's right Y'know." The woman smiled down and winked at Hershel. "But sonny boy, you left so soon that you forgot to take these as well." She picked up a small ornament from the mantelpiece, a golden apple, and handed it to him "You wouldn't wanna leave that one would you?" She grabbed Hershel under the arm and hoisted him upright. She opened the door to allow the officers to leave the house "This boy's done no wrong, so please, just let him be. I hope you have a fine evening sir." After the men were gone Hershel looked to her in confusion

"Why would you do that? When I've done you so wrong. It was truly ungentlemanly." Granny Riddleton laughed and patted him on the back.

"I know you meant well by it, so please, keep the treasures."

"Madam, if I can do anything for you-" She stopped him halfway and handed the bag of silverware back to him.

"All I ask is that you use them wisely" The woman smiled, blowing out the candles as she made her way out of the room . "See a higher cause in it."

* * *

 

As Hershel sat in his bed chambers that night, he stared out the window into the darkness. His guilt had been forgotten by Granny Riddleton's kindness; if anyone else had seen him today, he'd have been back under Descole's glare pulling the Bostonius. He knew this was never going to happen again, that someone would actually help a criminal like him. The badge of Convict's, his past and even his name stopped him from even being treated as a human by anybody higher up than him. If he stayed living in this way, he'd die within a few days. It was time to be rid of his criminal past and become a person once again. Hershel pulled his coat on and ran out of the Puzzle shack. He stood there and yelled to the empty surroundings

"I'll escape now from this world, from the world of Hershel Layton!" He took the parchment he was given out of his coat and tore it to shreds, throwing it to the wind. He no longer lived that life, he whispered to himself. "A new story must begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you're a geeky 15 year old theatre kid and you do a crossover of your favourite musical and video game. And sometimes people like it.
> 
> I wasn't gonna post this, but when I started rereading it I remembered just how much fun I had writing it, and you can really see how much love I put into it
> 
> If you like Les Mis or general tragedy you'll probably enjoy the story, thats all I can say
> 
>  
> 
> (also Canon family trees don't exist here)
> 
> (and I'm currently spellchecking everything casue there's loads of typos I missed)


	2. At the End of the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh also implied spoilers for all the main series games

The rain hit against the streets of Folsense, as the hooves of horses thundered past. The people in the alleyways turned away from the inspectors and covered their children protectively. Everyone knew that they were never there to help the citizens, despite being heads of the law. The man at the front of the group halted to a stop outside the old factory, letting his companions know that this is where the mayor was likely to be.

Inside the building, women worked busily at their stations, needles moving almost in time with each other. The boss, a man named Jakes, walked between them, and it was clear to see that every time he passed a worker she would shuffle as far away as she could in her seat. He was affectionately named 'Third eyes Jakes' as he always managed to fire women because of a single thing they did wrong, even if he'd not been looking when it happened, almost as if he had an extra eye in the back of his head.

One worker he kept an extra close eye on was Claire Foley; a young woman who always seemed to come back to work broke just after being paid. He often wondered what on earth she was spending her money on.

Over the past few weeks, the other women noticed this sudden interest and suspected the worst of her, leading to nasty stories spreading throughout the factory. As they finished up work for the day, one of them finally found out what was going on. A small letter was peeking out of Claire's jacket, and she snatched it up immediately. "So what have we here then?" she remarked, signalling for the other girls to come over. Claire noticed and tried to grab it from her hand

"No Kira, Give that back!" She jumped for it as Kira retreated into the crowd and began reading it aloud; swapping her country accent for a high pitched London one intending to mimic Claire's voice.

"Dear Claire, You must send us more money. Your child needs a doctor-" She widened her mouth in surprise. "Child? You've never mentioned that to Jakes now have you, why not?" Claire snatched the letter back from her and stuffed it into her pocket, checking that he wasn't in the room.

"That is neither your, nor his business."

"How're you paying for it then?" Before she could stop her Kira was yelling for Jakes. Claire leapt at her and tried to get her to stop drawing his attention. At this moment, a bell rang as the door to the factory opened and a loud shout was heard.

"What is this fighting about? True ladies would never involve in such behaviour." Hershel Layton, though he no longer used that name, stood in the doorway. He shook the rain out of his top hat and placed it back on his head "I am the mayor of this town and I ask that you stop this nonsense." Jakes came running down the stairs to deal with the crisis but stopped as he saw the top hatted mayor.

"Ah, Mr Bronev what brings you here? I was told you weren't checking in till tomorrow"

"Please, Theodore will do just fine. I'm just on my way to meet the inspector, but I heard the situation. Though I am assured that you will be dealing with it in the proper manner." He shook hands with the man "Please be patient and sort this out." When he tipped his hat and exited to the next room, Jakes let out a yell.

"So who's causing the problem then eh? Who am I gonna have to throw out?" Claire tried to slink to the back of the crowd but Kira pushed her back forward and handed the letter to Jakes.

"Turns out that Ms Foley here has a kid back home, an ill kid. Notice how she never has money left the day after payday? Well there's why." Jakes laughed.

"But the amount this job pays hardly allows enough for a week's food; it'd never pay for a kid. If you tried to pay medical expenses you'd starve."

"Exactly." Said Kira, nudging Claire "And where'd you think she got the kid from? She ain't married." She dropped her voice low and hissed "She's obviously been  _sleeping about_." Jakes raised his eyebrows in glee. Claire tried to ramble out an explanation.

"Sleeping about hey? I can't have women like that working here, you're no better than a bleedin' criminal." Claire's eyes widened, she couldn't afford to be sent off.

"But sir I need this job, You yourself just said that medical expenses-"

"Shut it, I don't want to hear your excuses. Come on girl, on your way." The other girls stared on in amusement as Claire was thrown to the street, yelling for someone to help her. As she saw Hershel through the door she began screaming for him, but he didn't look away from his conversation.

* * *

 

"Thank you for your time Mr Descole, I know you have such a busy schedule these days. Is the new job suiting you well?" Descole removed his hat and held it against his chest.

"I thank you for giving me such an opportunity; this town is far better than that dock where I used to be. I'm more interested in catching criminals than watching over them" Descole looked towards Hershel, as if he had noticed something "Speaking of which, have we met before? I'm sure I've seen you while I was working there…." Panic rushed through Hershel's head, but he assumed he'd managed to hide it well as Descole's expression never changed.  
"I don't believe we have. Believe me, I would remember" He laughed "that mask of yours isn't difficult to forget." Descole frowned and opened his mouth to speak again but never got a word out as there was a crash from out in the street. Hershel rushed to the window to try and see what was going on, but the crowds blocked his view.

"Hurry, we need to find out what's happened." Descole flipped his hat back onto his head as he followed Layton; they bustled through the crowds of women until they came to the doorway and saw the mess outside. A cart had fallen, trapping a man underneath. Hershel was disgusted to see that many of the townspeople were simply watching, as this man struggled. He moved over and began calming down the victim.

"Sir? Sir are you okay, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, but I don't think I can get out anyway" Hershel recognised that voice from when he was a boy, as his memory flashed back to those schooldays where Mr Schrader would bring his books back to him damp, because the old cart had crashed and fallen into a puddle. As he made his way over, a woman stopped him.

"Don't go near him sir, the thing's stupidly heavy."

"If you try and lift it. It'll kill both of you." Added another.

"Don't worry. I think I can get it. Somebody help me to raise this." He and a few others began to lift the wheels up, avoiding the old school teacher. "You, ma'am, adjust the angle over that side so that we can slide it over."

Descole watched from the factory doorway as the mayor hoisted it onto his shoulders with ease, figuring out the perfect strategy of how to solve the issue. He couldn't help but think of that prisoner who had broken parole so many years ago. The man who lifted the mast in such a way. It was an absurd thought but maybe, just maybe his search was over.

When Mr Schrader was finally free, he shook hands with Hershel "Thank you so much Mr Bronev, I really should get a new cart. This one's getting pretty old. Had it since I was just a young lad"

"I believe that would be a good idea" He chuckled. Descole walked over to the pair and looked into Hershel's eyes for far too long than was necessary "Mr Descole is something the matter?"  
"Yes, there is. Yes I knew it. I was right." He was convinced that this was the man he seeked, he turned to get back onto his horse, planning to research further this 'Theodore Bronev", leaving Layton gazing in bewilderment and confusion after him.


	3. I Dreamed a Dream

The night air bit at Claire's face as she wandered down the narrow staircase, avoiding eye contact with anyone who seemed dangerous. She had nowhere to go; she'd left her daughter with an innkeeper outside of town and could hardly go back there without money to pay for their services. The sums of cost had risen dramatically in the last few weeks, as more and more medicine was required to help her child. She was going to have to find other ways of making up for the money, now that she was entirely jobless. She took her glasses off and approached one of the less shady men.

"Excuse me, how much for this?" The man took the pair and looked them over.

"I'll give you twenty picarats for it."

"Twenty?" She'd never get by on so little money "Please, it's worth thirty at least. They're from London!" The man laughed in her face and shoved the glasses back at her. Feeling deflated, she placed them back onto her nose and began to walk to the plaza of the town. She could see the people in the alleyways watching her; they knew she didn't belong. All the local women wore over the top makeup and dresses that were probably once very expensive and pretty but were now tattered and ripped beyond repair. The  _Lovely Ladies_ , they were called. It wasn't a well-respected term. She decided to go on her way, rather than wait around for the inevitable trouble.

Claire felt something brush against her head. She spun round and took a defensive stance.

"You've got some lovely hair there, miss. I'll pay you well for it, if you'd like." A woman with a large hairdo and high heels stood there, Ludmilla. There was the inevitable trouble.

"Don't touch me! I'm not planning on staying here; I just want to get to the train station." The woman frowned as Claire lifted the hem of her skirt and continued down

"I'll give you fifty for it." Claire stopped, wondering if she'd heard right "I run a costume shop in the town over, I know it sound ridiculous but it'd really help."

"Fifty? Fifty picarats?" That was more than Claire could've asked for, it'd pay for at least the next few days. She touched her hair again, what did she have to lose? It'd grow back soon enough "Fine." Ludmilla smiled and took her hand, leading her to a room at the side of one of the alley houses. She took a knife from the counter and began hacking away at Claire's ginger locks.  _It's worth it_  Claire told herself as she watched it fall to the floor. When she was finished, Ludmilla handed her the coins and thanked her. Claire caught sight of herself in the window; she hardly recognised her own reflection. She felt like crying.

She had fifty coins with her now, but it was hardly enough. There had to be another way to make money... She made her way through the crowd, which had dispersed slightly as each of the ladies found a partner and wandered away. One woman was still there alone, clad in a large boa and silk dress. She looked as if she'd stepped right out of a stage show. The woman noticed her staring and walked to her

"You lost, love?" She had an expression of confidence and sincerity on her made up face, which compelled Claire to speak with her.

"I'm trying to find money; I've got debts to pay." She hadn't wanted to confide to anyone, but this woman seemed to know what was happening.

"Well you've come to the right place; this is a goldmine for work. Especially for a nice girl like you. Ilyana, by the way" Claire shook her hand. "So, how do you feel about selling teeth? Does that appeal?" Claire raised a hand to her mouth and refused. "Hm, shame. Well you already got some cash from your hair so I can only think of one other option.  _That_  option." Claire knew what she was talking about, the famed pursuit of the Lovely Ladies.

"I-I don't think I could do that." She turned to walk off, the few ladies that were near her sighed.

"Too bad… I had a couple of gentleman that'd be dying to meet someone; they'd probably pay a lot." Claire hesitated "They aren't the best looking chaps in the world. Pretty desperate." Ilyana added. Claire stared at the floor and sighed. She had nothing left. Might as well make use of what she could, and she'd done worse things in life before.

"Okay." Claire answered quickly and with no emotion in her voice.

"Hey Frankie." Ilyana gestured to a crudely dresses man with a nose too large for his face and a deck of playing cards sticking out of his left sleeve. She introduced him to Claire but she was hardly paying attention. How had life come to this?

* * *

 

Claire laid herself down in the back of the alleyway. There was a fair bit of extra change in her pocket but she couldn't bring herself to feel joy. Ilyana had assured her that it would get better; others scoffed at her for being so 'feeble'. She'd been doing so well that morning and now she looked down at herself. She felt dirty, both her body and her mind. A garish red dress that she was told would 'attract customers', hair cut so flat against her head she couldn't bear to touch it and a dead look in her eye; all the beautiful signs of Lovely Lady. Under normal circumstances, Claire would have given up and gone home with what she had but something kept her there. The image of a young brunette girl lying ill in her bed calling for her mother's protection, she couldn't let her daughter down

She remembered how her life had been before. She'd had high hopes for the future, planning to have a career in Science, a field she'd been interested in since she was young. She was in a happy relationship with a boy from her old school, when she found out about her pregnancy she was overjoyed and rushed to tell him. He was gone the next day. It was near impossible to find work whilst looking after a child, so they went many years with no money coming in at all. Claire was sure she'd finally found a new way of life once the innkeepers showed her hospitality, Claire did the odd job around the place to pay for services. But then her daughter became sick and of course living costs increased until Claire could no longer bear it. She got a job working in Mr Bronev's factory, keeping the fact that she had a child and no husband out of the light. And now she was here.

Claire picked her head up off of the floor, how long had she been reminiscing? Her cheeks were damp with tears; she hadn't even noticed she was crying. She got up and walked into the street, it was near enough empty now. She decided to head towards the plaza now, find her way back to the inn. A train ticket would waste her 'well earned' money though; she'd have to see how far she could walk. She decided to ask Ilyana the way.

"Well what do we have here then?" Claire froze. It couldn't be him, not here. "If it ain't the little slut I fired this morning." How dare he call her names, after he was the very one who sent her here?

"Jakes, please leave me alone, you've caused me enough misery for today." She tried to maintain composure despite the anger and fear inside.

"Oh no, I want to be here. Always nice to see bad things happen to such awful people." Claire clenched her fist "Yer not a pretty sight though, not like you'll make any money. The damn kid'll probably die, can't say I'd be upset." He stared in horror as the pain rushed across his face. Claire had slapped him, letting her nails dig into his cheek. She felt proud, that should show him that she wasn't gonna be pushed around. But, of course, she hadn't expected there to be witnesses.

The men came barging towards the pair, hatred flashing in their eyes

"Sir? Sir, what happened?" the policemen crowded around Jakes, eager to see the crime. Claire tried to back away but she found a tall man with a mask over his eyes had blocked her exit.

"Well, inspector, here I am just minding my own business when this prostitute -" he waved a hand at Claire "came and attacked me !" He gestured towards the claw marks on his face.

"Inspector please, you don't know the full story; He wished my child dead!" She couldn't end up on the wrong side of the police, if she were to be arrested then her daughter would…. Claire suddenly felt ill and collapsed to her knees. She felt sick. The mask man bent down and glared at her.

"You know what the penalty is for assault." He pulled her to her feet; she stumbled, unable to keep balance. One of the men from the back of the mob spoke up.

"Gentleman, before we make any assumptions, we should hear her tale." Claire looked over at him, immediately recognizing those features.

"You." She pointed a finger towards him "You were there." The man's face was a blur of confusion.

"Whatever do you mean miss?"

"Mr Bronev" She spat at him "you were there in the factory this morning, and you let him-" she jabbed the finger at Jakes now "Throw me onto the streets, Look what you've done to me!" Theodore Bronev eyes widened in realisation as he walked over and took Claire's hand.

"Is-Is this true what I've done? Let an innocent worker…." He looked to Claire and she grabbed onto his jacket, tears streaming. "A moment of your Time, Descole." He turned to the masked man, Descole, and spoke in hushed tones that Claire begged to hear. She watched as the man smiled and Descole grimaced.

"Inspector, thank you. Miss, please come with me." Claire staggered towards him, her breaths sharp.

"What's happening?" She asked as he lifted her into his arms

"I'm taking you to the hospital; you'll be able to rest there for a while. I'll sort out the problems with your job miss… I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name." Claire was overjoyed, the man who she'd seen as her enemy was helping. There was someone who seemed to care.

"Claire. Claire Foley."

"I'll request accommodation for you right away. And, you mentioned a daughter?"

"Yes, Flora. She lives with an innkeeper in the next town over." He smiled at her.

"I shall send for her as well."


	4. Who Am I?

Hershel waited. He had been summoned by the inspector to discuss an urgent matter. He looked round impatiently; surely they hadn't discovered him here? He'd spent so many years building up the Theodore persona, but maybe all that life was at an end. He hadn't done too poorly; he'd started up a business and helped many citizens. Perhaps it was time to give in. His thoughts were interrupted by a bell signalling that the inspector had entered. Layton prepared himself for what was coming.

"Mr Bronev. I would like to relieve myself of my position." Hershel froze. Surely he'd misheard the man. "I almost pinned the blame of a crime on you. I am truly ashamed and I'm not fit to wear this uniform." He went to remove his mask, as if he was to throw it away.

"There will be no need for that." Layton stopped his hand and raised an eyebrow "What crime are you talking about Descole?" Descole exhaled, clearly content that he didn't have to remove his mask.

"An old prisoner, escaped parole years ago. I hated to think so badly of you, but the way you helped the teacher lift the cart and when you offered the prostitute forgiveness the other day made me think it was possible that…. It was you." He was speaking it past tense, Layton realised, and that must mean that he no longer thinks so. "I was wrong. We found the man elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" Now he was just thoroughly confused, this man accused him of his crime then claimed he had found someone else?

"A scientist. Tried to tell us his name was 'Dimitri Allen' but I'd seen him preaching about how he was 'Hershel Layton', even had the audacity to dress the same way he did when I arrested him. Seems he's still an awful man, the people are terrified of him."

"Oh…"

"Well, once again I apologise for my treachery against you, if it ever happens again I will not hesitate to resign immediately." He left without another word. Hershel sat down and stared at his retreating figure. Was he finally free of his past burden? If this man were arrested, there would never be a need for him to worry. Hershel Layton would technically be in jail already, this man was his chance.

But, something stopped him. Was it truly gentlemanly to allow a mistaken identity be the reason this Dimitri went to prison, was it worth it? He'd ruin a man's life just to save himself. That wasn't the code that Hershel lived by. He didn't want to spend a life leading a lie, with a fake name and a fraud doing his time as a slave. He pulled his hat further onto his head and stormed towards the courthouse, knowing that he was finally going to right this wrong.

* * *

 

Claire lay in the bed, as nurses bustled around her. The world around her had become hazy and blurred, images appearing at her bedside that weren't truly there. Ilyana kneeling by her bedside apologising, Jakes screaming at her, the kind top hatted man smiling. They all vanished after a few minutes, but there was one figure that kept returning to her. A white nightdress swung at her ankles and her brown hair flew out behind her as if she was stood outside, rather than in the hospital with Claire.

"Flora, it's bedtime." She whispered "You need to go home; Madame will be worried if you aren't back". The young girl reached out for her and Claire tried to grab her hand, but she was too far from her. "I love you Flora, but it's dark and so…so cold." Flora frowned at her, leaning towards her.

"Claire?" The image of her daughter faded as she looked up to see someone stood at the door.

"Mr Bronev? Where is she, where is my child? She should be here." Hershel laid a hand on her forehead.

"She will be here soon, don't you worry. And please, my name is Hershel. Hershel Layton." Claire looked up and met his eyes "I will with with you until she arrives." Tears ran down Claire's cheek.

"Hershel… you are something truly wonderful." She wanted to reach up, kiss him, and thank him for what he was doing. But she could barely manage a small smile. Claire began breathing heavily through her tears. "I don't think I'm going to be able to leave the hospital."

"But you child needs you, she wants to see you."

"I can't, I need to sleep…" She began to settle into the bed "Please, tell Flora that I love her, and I'll see her when I…wake." She looked as if she was going to close her eyes, but they remained open.

"Claire, are you alright?" She was staring at the ceiling, as if scared by something. Hershel began panicking. He put his hand to her wrist, there was nothing. Suddenly the stumbling and gasping made sense, he'd never even noticed. He ran his hand over her face, closing her eyes, giving her a look of peacefulness and kissed her forehead.


	5. Castle on a Cloud

Descole put his hand against his sword as he entered the hospital; he was simultaneously overjoyed and disgusted. The famed 'Hershel Bronev' that he'd felt so wrong to betray had been the convict after all. The man ran into the courtroom screaming that he was Hershel Layton instead of the man on the stand. The judge declared that this man was clearly not well and should be taken away, but Descole knew. He had always known.

The scene as he entered the room would probably have been touching if he cared enough to pay attention. Layton sat on the edge of the bed where the unstirring body of the young woman found in the plaza lay. A sad look was upon his face as he bowed his head and whispered something. The sea hit slowly against the side of the rocks beneath the window as the wind whistled.

"1919, after all this time." He looked up to see him, the look on Layton's face showed mild shock but he had clearly known this was going to happen.

"Please Inspector, this woman has a child that isn't aware yet, I need to speak with her." He pleaded with him, Descole scoffed at him.

"You really should have thought of that before you turned yourself in then shouldn't you?" He unsheathed his sword "I'll be taking you back to the docks now. The child will learn of the news soon enough." Hershel backed towards the window, wary of the sword's swinging.

"Just a few days, then I'm yours." He frantically grabbed a pipe that was hooked up on the wall and yanked it from its fixtures. Descole swung towards him as Hershel blocked with the pipe now it his grasp. "It's all I need."

"I've been hunting you for years; you think I'm going to give up now? Pah, you're more clueless than I thought." He flicked the pipe out from Hershel's hand and raised the sword to his neck, trapping him between himself and the window "You don't think I know how you criminals think? I grew up with criminals. You say you'll return but intend to flee at first chance."

"I guess this is my chance then." Descole barely had time to register his words before Hershel jumped backwards into the water below. Descole screamed his name but Hershel was long gone.

* * *

 

Monte D'or was unlike a town anybody had seen before, as you passed through it you'd be suddenly hit with a barrage of life and noise that weren't present in the gloomy town of Folsense. Gamblers stood on street corners and everyone around was nearly always drunk, it was odd for people not to be. The main cause of all the strange town customs was a place called the Camel's Hump hotel. Run by the eccentric inventor Don Paolo, a strange moustached man who seemed to devote his life to creating strange inventions that would ultimately fail. The inn was crowded every single night with people from all round town. Though most had a good enough time whilst they were there, the prices inflated by the hour and they often found themselves leaving with only half their luggage, as the rest was quickly concealed underneath Paulo's coat and thrown downstairs to the waiting arms of his wife Dahlia.

Dahlia was a strange woman, hardly ever showing signs of true emotion, instead faking them to get money. Acting flirtily towards the older men that entered and motherly when children were there. People joked that it was almost as if she was robotic which, considering Paulo's love for machinery, wasn't a completely ridiculous remark. Following her around like a dog was their daughter Emmeline, a loud and pushy girl that was remarkably bright for age; already able to get people to tip her mother extra by flashing a toothy smile and curtseying, holding her bright yellow dress as elegantly as she could.

In the middle of all the chaos was a girl much younger than Emmeline, small in stature with a dress far too big for her hanging off her bony shoulders. A broom was in her grip as she spun around the floor with it. A small rag doll was tucked under her arm and a quiet song left her lips. Flora had been at the inn for a few years, helping round the hotel and getting Emmeline's old, usually torn, dresses and leftover food in return.

"Are you singing again?" Dahlia finished pouring out another glassful for the circus clown that had entered, slipping one of his rings off as she passed it to him. She tucked it into her blouse as she glared at the girl.

"No-no I was just sweeping…"

"You've been sweeping the floors for the past hour and they don't look any cleaner." She tapped her foot against the pool of sand on the floor.

"I swept it up b-but Emmy just came back in from playing and put sand all over –" Emmy jumped up from one of the sofas and draped against the back of it, flicking the gold sand out of her brown hair to hide any evidence.

"Mum, she's lying. I hardly put anythin' on the floor." Flora protested as Emmy stuck her tongue out.

"Are you making up lies about Emmy?" Dahlia angrily slammed her hand against the back of the sofa, making Emmeline jump. "That's-" She raised a hand to her head and sighed "I'm just too busy to care about the sand right now, your father will sort it later. Go and fetch water from the fountain outside."

"But it's so dark out." Dahlia glared at her as she propped her broom against the wall.

"Well excuse me madam. We need water for the guests wine. Go." Flora frowned, but left with one of the buckets.

* * *

 

Hershel shook himself off before he entered the town; he'd floated down the coast for ages and managed to pull himself out on a rock about a mile back. He had the address on the back of his notebook and headed towards the hotel, but not before he noticed a very small girl struggling with a pale of water near the edge of town.

"Excuse me miss?" The girl looked up frightfully and darted behind the fountain. "I'm sorry; do pardon me I must look awful right now. I just wanted to know whether you needed help with your water." The girl stood up and peered at him, clutching a rag doll to her chest.

"I'm not sure if I can trust you with the water, you look as if you've already tipped one over you." Hershel laughed as the little girl came closer.

"My name is Hershel. Don't worry about the water; I'll just help you take it back to your home." He picked the buck up off of the floor, it was heavy even to him, how the girl planned to carry it was beyond him.

"I'm Flora." She offered a clumsy curtsey.

"Flora… Is your mother Claire Foley?"

"Yes, do you know her? I haven't seen her in a long time…." He decided not to trouble her with the news just yet. "I miss her."

"I do know her. She's a lovely person."


	6. Stars

Hershel pushed open the door to the inn, allowing Flora in before him, and was hastily met with a loud shouting aimed at Flora from a man storming down the entrance hall. He wore a grimace on his face and stamped angrily as guests scrambled out of his way. Flora moved behind Hershel's leg, clinging to him. When the man finally reached them he waved a finger angrily at her and yelled.

"You left over an hour ago! What have you-"

The noise died down as soon as he looked up and locked eyes with Hershel. He stood up and dusted himself off before bending down to knee height and attempting a sympathetic smile.

"What …have you been doing?" He took the bucket out of Hershel's hand and pushed it aside with his foot. "Oh, the water. You really didn't need to get so much dear."

"Sir, this girl-"

"Hey, why don't you let me take your hat yeah?" He reached up for it as Hershel ducked away. He grumbled "Fine keep the hat. Don Paolo by the way" He hastily shook his hand

"Hershel Layton." Paulo turned his nose up at him and fiddled with the end of his moustache.

"I run this place, so if you want a room I'm the guy to ask." He took Hershel by the arm and tried to lead him into the inn, whilst slipping a coin out of his pocket. Hershel leant back and grabbed his hand, pushing the money back.

"Sir. I'm not here for the inn; I'm here about this girl. I found her all by herself in town; she assures me that your wife sent her?" Paulo raised his eyebrows.

"Well uh yeah- HEY DAHLIA" He yelled into the crowd of the main lounge. A woman popped her head above the ruckus.

"WHAT."

"THE KID WANTS YOU." Hershel saw her move towards them, a tray balanced skilfully on her waist.

"WELL YOU CAN TELL THE KID THAT-" She, just like Paolo, caught Hershel's eye and changed demeanour immediately. "Oh sir" she added a flourishing courtesy "would you like somebody to take your-"

"Already tried it." Muttered Paulo out the side of his mouth. He whispered something to her as she flashed a stellar smile at Flora.

"Oh, she's back, that's good! Come over here darling, let's take you off to bed, you're probably tired…." Flora hugged closer to Layton's leg. Paolo made some wild gestures at her. She eventually hobbled over, where she was met with false hugs and hushed anger.

"Now-" Began Hershel, lowering his hat "Before I offer my proposal, I have some grave news to tell you." He leant down to Flora's height, he dreaded her reaction but couldn't bear to leave Claire wish unfulfilled "Your mother is no longer with us." Flora's eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on the floor. Paulo and Dahlia faked shocked faces and exchanged worried glances with each other. " She sent me to let you know that she loves you, and to make sure you're alright." He looked at each of the adults in turn "And it is clear that you aren't. So my offer to you is that I will take Flora off of your hands. That she will live in my protection." Paolo looked apprehensive.

"You want to take our…our little girl away? But she's so important, we care greatly for Florence."

"Flora…"

"-Care greatly for Flora."

"Perhaps this will sway your favour." He handed an envelope to them "just over 1000 picarats. I assume this will cover any of her continuing bills." Dahlia snatched the letter and weighed it in her hand

"This has an air of questionable legality about all of this,  _sir"_

"There's also a very highly questionable legality over making a young child work for you." Before he had a chance to answer, his wife jumped in with the envelope.

"This would be a lovely amount of money, if it weren't for all the poor dear's medical bills. I'm sure Claire mentioned it?" Hershel should have expected something like these from these kinds of people. To further expand their point, Dahlia cupped Flora's face, exclaiming about how thin she looked.

"No more, please. I will offer you 200 more, but that is it. Flora will be in my care from now on. " He handed them the last few coins from his pocket and took Flora's hand.

"Will you be like my father now?" Hershel chuckled at the thought.

"Yes, I suppose so." Flora grinned "Come now, say goodbye." She smiled up as she quickly waved, more at the inn itself than the people and followed him out. Paolo clutched the money to his chest as he waved after her.

"Farewell Cora!" called Paolo as the two left, his wife sighing behind him.

Descole rapped his fist against the door, fuming with anger. Several locals had stated that the convict had been there but he'd not seen a sign of him. Behind the door he heard shouts which, from the words he could pick out, sounded like an argument over money. Eventually a woman opened the door, an envelope filled with money in her grasp. She plastered a strained look of welcome on her face but Descole spoke before she could.

"Have you seen Hershel Layton round here? Tall, beady eyed top hat?" The lady scoffed at him.

"Seen him? Yeah he robbed us. 1200 picarats… yeah right. There are barely 800 in here!" she shook the envelope at him. Descole smiled, he search may be over and he had another crime to pin against him. "He ran off with the little girl that worked here, without even paying off for her full care, took her off in a carriage down the road." She brushed a tear from her cheek as she pointed in the direction. A child ran up to the door, demanding her mother help her inside the inn whilst asking what she was talking to him about, so Descole merely nodded and thanked her for her help. Getting back onto his horse he followed in great pursuit of Layton.

Hershel looked down at the face of the sleeping girl beside him, running a hand over her hair. She'd fallen asleep barely minutes after they'd sat in the carriage, clearly exhausted. He knew that by this point the inn keepers would be aware that he'd given them less, but he'd found that fooling them was more gentlemanly than leaving Flora in a place like that. Though as she slept, he mulled over how different his life would be. He was now caring for someone. The last time he'd offered kindness towards a child he was arrested.

Then there was Descole, he was sure that the inspector would be after him by now. It was just a matter of time before he reached them. The carriage veered left as they headed on their way and then stopped. That was when Hershel heard the dreaded voice. He quickly shook Flora awake and prepared to move.

"Excuse me; I must check the back of your carriage. I cannot give any more information." Flora looked up groggily, but with a fear in her eyes as Hershel prayed that the driver wouldn't allow it. There was shouting from outside, he didn't hesitate or wait around, he simply took her hand and leapt from the cart, running away from it. He could hear the inspector behind and was aware of Flora's panting; he quickly lifted her up onto his hip and darted into an alley. They stayed there for a few minutes before Hershel was sure Descole had passed. He moved her up onto his shoulders and headed on their way, with a clear destination in mind.

After several hours of walking and evading any oncoming figures along the path they reached the place. Gressenheller, the old schoolhouse. Schrader opened the door, recognising him at once from the cart incident and clearly understanding straight away. He let them in without a second thought.

* * *

 

Descole looked out from the balcony of the Reunion Inn. He'd completely lost sight of Layton, with no trace of him left in even the most obscure places. He didn't know how he found himself out on top of the town's most prestigious hotel, perhaps it was to get a better view of the city, it was unlikely that he went there to look at the stars. But no matter what, he was there now, gazing up at them. The orderliness of each light shining in the darkness, how they remained there forever as his life went spiralling in every direction. He'd devoted many years looking for Layton and where had it gotten him? He'd become some hopeless poet looking at the sky. He frowned at himself and straightened up against the railing. As he looked down over the city, he knew one thing for certain.

No matter how long it took, he would find him.


	7. Look Down London

The streets bustled busily as the upper-class tried to make their way down the street in lavish carriages while being bombarded with insults from the people on the streets. Complaints of how they lived, wandering hands grabbing at the trunks, whispers of revolution.

In amongst this struggle of rich and poor was a small boy, small enough to go unnoticed but independent enough to climb between carts with near enough no effort passing along messages. As he swung through the carriage window of one Leonard Bloom, he greeted the man with a tip of his blue hat and a childish grin across his face.

"'How do you do? The name's Luke Triton. There's a speech going on outside, you might want to go hear it." He swung back out of the window and hooked himself onto the side of the tallest carriage that passed and, climbing to the top of it, yelled out to the people around him "That's right; this is the place we live in! Look at all these rich folk in their fancy carts. Nobody 'ere cares for us lot, we need a change." Several ongoers looked up, wondering what the boy had to say. "They say there's equality here? The only time we'll ever to be equal to them is when we're dead, and that ain't gonna be any time soon we 'ope, long live us!" Echoing his cries across the street were two men, the older with a mess of red hair and an orange ascot tied round his neck, waving a banner above his head. The younger was dressed similar to the boy that still crawled among the crowd, though he was much less sure of himself and seemed awkward stood atop the carriage.

"The only man who cares about any of us-" the redhead began "-Is Duke Herzen. But ties close to him inform me that he's unlikely to last the week. Then you know who'll be in charge?" he turned to the other man "I'll let you do the honours, Clive." He stepped forwards with hatred in his eyes

"The one person there will be Bill Hawks, he's next to take over. And believe me; he isn't going to improve any of THIS." He flung his arms toward the crowd. "I mean, have you met the man?"

"So we invite anyone-"

"ANY-one"

"To join us in Revolt should this injustice ever occur." A cheer rose up from the few that were listening. The younger man, Clive, added in a whisper.

"Randall, I'm gonna go and find her now. She said she had something to tell me. Think you can do the rest." Randall grinned at him.

"Do you doubt my excellence?" Clive raised his eyebrows "Believe me I'll manage." Clive hopped down from platform and wandered to the edge, high fiving Luke as they passed each other. Luke himself addressed two women as they passed by.

"Madams, may I suggest that you stay away from that side of the town. Paolo and his family would love to take those bags of yours." The two laughed as he tipped his hat "His daughter ain't so bad though, she'll probably 'elp you out."

In an alleyway over the other side, watching the rally with an indirect interest was the girl herself. Emmeline had changed a lot since her childhood days, now a tall muscular girl with a better heart. Her parents ended up losing the inn many years before; they now lived on the harsh streets of London, making money through even more questionable means than they had already tried. With a small marquee and sympathy drawing costumes, her father went out looking for victims. Emmy didn't follow her parent's motives, preferring to spend her time with the local residents that had shown her kindness. She'd managed to sneak away from her mother's watchful eye and was wandering down an alley past a house that she knew well, hoping he'd show up soon. Luckily she didn't have to wait too long.

"Emmy!" She smiled as she saw him walking past the alley's entrance. He came running down to her "You weren't at the event, what happened?" Emmy laughed.

"I've only just managed to get away from them, left him trying to con some old woman." Clive frowned at her "Oh hush. I don't like it either, but what can anyone do about it?"

"Just… make sure you stay out of it." She decided to change the subject away from her family.

"How did the speech go anyway? I know Randall had been planning all day." Clive rubbed the back of his neck and looked back towards the town centre, where few people were still gathered.

"There weren't that many people when I left him but, well you know Ascot, he'll make it sound so exciting that people can't help but join."

"You know…" Emmy swayed on her heels "I could help you out in this revolution. I could be a student too." She'd spent years being harassed by the upper class people, this Revolution was something that could push her entire life forwards.

"I know… But I just don't think it would be right. You're too, well, unpredictable. " Emmy stamped her foot, they'd had this discussion so many times and he always gave half-hearted responses.

"That's not a good enough reason, I know things! I'm an asset to your cause." She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

"The things you know wouldn't help here; do you know how to fire a gun? And besides, I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

"I know you don't trust me because of my family but- "Emmy was about to reel off a long list of reasons for why she should be involved, but a voice stopped her. The shrill voice of her mother round the corner, they'd noticed she was missing. "Clive, get away from here." Clive looked taken aback, he clearly wasn't expecting that.

"Well, sorry. I was just trying to have a conver-"

"I'll meet you back here in a bit, okay" Emmy went off to the location of Dahlia's voice, leaving Clive bewildered.

"Emmy, wait! What's going on?" As he ran to the front of the alley he went spiralling into a girl that was hurrying past. "I'm so sorry." He apologised profusely as the girl looked up and smiled at him. He smiled as their eyes met. She was a girl that Clive had seen round the market before, but he'd never truly  _seen_ her. She was small in stature with a young face, but held herself like one of the upper class women. An unusual birthmark sat upon her collarbone and strands of brow hair poked out from under her pink bonnet. "Once again, I'm so sorry." The girl giggled and followed a man, presumably her father, to the other side of the marquee. He watched her go, and saw Emmy do the same as the girl passed her, a look of disgust on on her face, before slipping inside.

* * *

 

Dahlia was close to screeching by the time Emmy made it back to them, but remained calm as Paolo spoke to the group. With a grey wig upon his bald head and a cane in his grip, he addressed each member of his group by one.

"Bishop, go grab someone's attention, look for someone posh-like. Swift, you and Emmeline go watch for the law outside." Emmy found herself being pulled outside by the scarred man "Gannet, Rook. Guard the doors. My dear-" He smiled at Dahlia "You've got the tears ready?" Dahlia held up the bundle in her hands, a large white cat wrapped up in a blanket. "Brilliant, make sure to hide her tail."

"Claudia's a Boy."

"….Right." Claudia mewed softly and Dahlia hushed him. She pulled a bonnet down over her head and wrapped her scarf over her shoulders. Don Paolo leant over and adopted his old man persona. A gentleman was hurried in by Bishop, looking confused. "Please sir…" Began Paulo in a shaking, guttural tone "Come and help us please, our child hasn't eaten for days." Dahlia made subtle crying noises behind him as he gestured to the bundle on her lap "If you could give just a single picarat, or perhaps 500, that'd be good as well." The man tried to turn and leave, but Paulo grabbed onto his shirt, knocking him backwards. His hat fell off in the process and as he tried to place it back on, realisation dawned upon him. "Wait a minute. Do I know you?" Dahlia placed the bundle on the floor, where Claudia left out with a shriek and took to the streets.

"Yes. I know him too." Her face became a grimace " You thought you'd gotten away with it did you?"

"That's right!" he added as an afterthought "Which guy was this?"

"The one that took the kid."

"OH. You're the con one who borrowed Fauna!" Dahlia rolled her eyes. The man pulled the hat down to conceal his face

"No sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. If you don't mind I'll be on my way now." Dahlia got up and threw her bonnet to the floor.

"You can pretend to be ignorant but we remember. You WILL pay back the money you 'forgot'. We have lives to run here." As Paolo was about to swing a punch at him before Emmy and Swift poked their heads round the door.

"Run for it, it's Inspector Descole!" Hershel pushed his way out of the marquee and ran to his daughter, hurrying her away. The family tried to chase after him, collecting up the money they'd already taken, the harsh voice of the inspector rung out. He walked over to them with a flourish of his cape, knocking Luke Triton over on his way. He picked the boy up by his shoulders and adjusted his jacket.

"What's happening here, a robbery? If there was any witnesses come forward now." Paolo pulled the wig off and kicked it behind him. "The man's gone; does he not want to report?"

"Maybe there was nothing to report." Descole snarled at Paolo. "You have no proof of it anyway." He added.

"That still wouldn't answer why he'd have gone away. Unless..." Descole's mind wandered to a night many years ago, when he'd lost sight of his criminal. He hadn't found him since. "No that would be ridiculous."

"You'll have a job to get that one back, that's the guy who robbed me of my darling child when she was just a kid." He dabbed at his eyes "Never did catch him. Anyway, since there are no witnesses or victims or, well, any proof whatsoever…. Can I go?"

"Get out of my sight."

* * *

 

Emmy watched as the old man escaped from her father's reach, leaving with the girl that she'd seen Clive speak to beforehand. As soon as she saw her face, she realised. It was as if their lives had been switched, she was there living lavishly as Emmy scraped her change robbing people. She'd definitely been right to go with the man. "Flora…" She whispered to herself "How did it all end up so backwards." Clive made his way back to her as the police dispersed from the scene. Emmy jumped up, hiding any sense of resentment from her face. "Clive. I'm sorry about this, that cop really wants to get us doesn't he. HA, he'll never manage." It looked as if Clive hadn't heard her, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Emmy, did you see that girl here?" Emmy hoped that her shock wasn't too obvious

"Yes I saw her, why?" Surely Clive didn't recognise her.

"I need to know who she is." Emmy's face turned to confusion "I need to talk to her." That didn't help her confusion. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders

"Have you ever spoken to her before, why so desperate for conversation?"

"I'll explain later Emmy; I've just got to know who she is. Please." He took one of Emmy's hands "Find her for me. I need to speak with her, see if her personality is a sweet as her."

"You're a literal idiot." Clive laughed "What will you give me if I learn her name?" she said jokingly

"Anything you want. Even if it's impossible! I'd give you your own underground city or-or a time machine!"

"I want you to let me into the Revolution." Clive bit his lip. He knew that Emmy would be an advantage to their fight, but her personality made it too much of a risk.

"…Like I said, I'd give you an Underground city."


	8. Red And Black

A great commotion had risen up from the banks of the river, as the meeting of the Thames Arms Restaurant came to a start. Randall was met with a hearty welcome as he entered the doorway. An unusual band of people sat in front of him, some old and some young, experienced and just joining. But all there for one reason.

"Randall!" yelled Crow "The men of Kodh have theirs all prepared."

"Mosinnia as well!" Called Janice, Randall smiled to them.

"The time is nearly here." He spoke with such vigour that the patrons leant forward in anticipation "Though not quite yet, I have this… feeling. Everyone stay alert, we'll need to be prepared." He looked round the room as everyone began to talk amongst themselves "I see that we still have a few to arrive, so please enjoy yourselves until everybody is present." The noise died down and slowly rebuilt as all the members began to move around and speak to one another.

This was his team, the people who would help him to lead his revolution. They all knew that once Bill Hawks had taken over, there'd be no place for them or anyone in the town that couldn't fit his laws. They would revolt, get a new leader. One who could change their lives for the better.

He looked round at them in turn, proud of the choices he'd made. Stood by his side was Alphonse Dalston, a hotel owner with a remarkable sense of leadership, if not a little overinvolved. Randall knew that he himself was the true leader, but saw Dalston as one of the main aspects of the team. Even if their similarly brash natures made them clash during every conversation.

At the back of the room were Arianna Barde and Crow. Arianna was a young woman that was currently training to become a doctor, though a bout of deadly illness when she was a child had made her somewhat a Hypochondriac, meaning that she tended to spend her time assessing herself rather than actual patients. Crow was a former street kid that used to lead around a pack of children in the centre, a role that was now taken by Luke. He and Crow were very close, acting almost like siblings. A true businessman, Crow was always capable of finding equipment and weapons that Randall asked for. He found it better not to ask where they'd come from.

Sat with a notebook in her hand was Janice Quatlane, an Opera singer who was equipped with an extravagant voice and never seen without her songbook. She wasn't fully on board with the idea of violence, but after her partner Melina fell ill and lost all her money due to the bills, she knew that something there had to change. Looking over her shoulder was Aurora, a new member to the group that had an unusual introduction. Found wandering the streets with no recollection of her life before, there were speculations about her but nothing was fully known. She quickly became accustomed to the group's ways and soon found herself pulled into the rebellion. Randall had to chuckle to himself at the way she was gazing at the book with an almost childlike quality.

Sat by the bar were two older women engaged in a game of chess, the first being Katia Anderson. As the granddaughter of Duke Herzen, she was technically an upper-class woman but found the company of the townspeople more fulfilling than that of her Grandfather, though she would often worry about his condition as the other members discussed his influence on their ideals. She huffed as her king was taken from her. The culprit was Amelia Ruth, a well-known chess Champion that was renowned for her intelligence. She was clearly one of the most useful in the team, but her reserved nature made her go unnoticed during many meetings. Randall often worried about her.

Then there was the most peculiar member, Henry Ledore. Henry used to live with Randall's family when they were younger and he'd never seemed keen on any of Randall's ideals, and even in older life he warned against the revolution when the idea had first sparked in his mind. Yet here he was, sat with a book at the table in the corner. He'd complain about flaws in plans but eventually helped them in greater solutions. Randall often wondered what it was that kept him there…

The door slammed open.

"Clive?" Randall walked over to "You're late."

"You only got here five minutes ago Ascot."

"Shut up Dalston." The man laughed as Arianna moved towards the front of the room. She studied the solemn look on his face.

"Are you alright Clive? You like you've seen one of those duck tile puzzles." Clive smiled.

"No nothing like that, she was something beautiful like an angel. I think I'm in love. But I only saw her for a second; I don't know who she is." The room became ablaze with people speaking to him, most of them questioning how that was even possible. Randall's voice rose above them.

"Clive. We're planning a Revolution here; we don't have time to worry about your lonely heterosexuality." Randall waited until everyone had settled down. Clive sulked in the chair beside him. "We strive to something much larger than any of our lives here. The red blood of our sacrifices will relight the passion of London, Destroying the darkness that will wash over this town if Hawks manages to take over." He turned to Crow "Do we have all the guns?"

"Two for each of us here." Katia raised her hand.

"Is anyone going to question whether these are legal?" Crow mumbled something about a business, but refused to go into further detail. At the entrance of the room, a small voice piped up yelling for everyone to listen. Amelia packed the chessboard away and started going over the best locations for the barricade. The voice rose up again, louder this time as Randall slid across the table towards the corner where a member was deep in another world.

"Henry put the book DOWN. We have work to do." Henry rolled his eyes as he slipped the book back into his bag and glared at Randall's smirking face. The voice yelled several more times until it was literally screaming across the room.

"LISTEN EVERYBODY" Everyone turned to see Luke Triton stood atop the table, hands cupped round his mouth. He sat down, legs swinging, and lowered his voice. "I just got word from the castle. Duke 'erzen is dead. The official procession is tomorrow." Katia gasped, resting her head in her hands.

"Dead?" asked Aurora "Randall, what does this mean?"

"It means…." He shook his head and started waving his finger around "It means this is the day! Well, tomorrow's the day if you want to be specific. It's Revolution time." He was met with questioning faces of the crowd "In the absence of Anton Herzen, the people of this town will be furious at Bill Hawks. They'll be leaping to rebel against him, if we can interrupt the procession-" He heard a sob from the other side

"Randall! 'ave some sympathy will ya.?" Came the voice of Luke, he turned to see Katia with tears streaming down her face. He should have realised that the news would affect her. He leant down her level and moved over to her.

"Katia? We don't have to do this if it would upset your family, we can find another way."

"It's okay, I just need a moment. I knew this was going to happen I just didn't know the realisation would hurt so much." Amelia put a hand on her shoulder.

"You still want to do this?" She wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Of course. This is what Grandfather would have wanted, a rebellion on the morn of his death." She laughed "He always was into dramatics." A cheer rose up through the room. Randall stood up tall with more confidence that the group had seen that evening.

"So it's settled then? We interrupt the procession and gather forces; we'll create the Barricade in the town square, outside the Clock shop. Gather the weapons now, we have to hurry." As people scurried around, Clive rose from his seat, still humiliated from his outburst earlier. That was the last time he was ever late for a meeting. He walked out the door and stood looking over at the River.

"Clive, I have good news." He jumped in the air and would have fallen head first into the Thames if an arm hadn't wrapped round him at the last second.

"Emmy? Good god, don't do that to me!" Emmy laughed as he tried to catch his breath

"Shut up, while they're all distracted in there, you can follow me, I found her."


	9. In my Life

Sat intertwining a ribbon into her hair, Flora, now near fully grown stared out of her window onto the lawn that was darkening as night fell. Several butterflies had gathered by her window, she smiled at them.

"Is it nice to be out there?" she whispered to them "To explore on your own?" Flora was much older now and bordering the lines between 'cute little girl' and 'beautiful lady' and still wasn't sure how she felt about her life. On one hand, she lived like a princess and was nearly spoilt by her father's kindness, there was no way for a girl to be happier but on the other, they were constantly moving, hiding, and she was never told why. There wasn't time to make friends.

She thought to the girls she'd seen in town, or the child jumping between carriages. She longed to talk them but the appearance of those criminals meant that her father returned home as quickly as possible.

Then there was that boy, the one that had run into her and smiled… If only her life wasn't so secretive, then maybe. She heard the door open, she sighed out the window as he entered. She'd been in there upset since they'd returned, but she appreciated that he gave her time to think.

"Flora?" He entered slowly, hoping she'd turn round. "I'm sorry we had to leave, I know you like being out in the town." Flora huffed "Believe me, if I was able to I'd spend days down there, a life full of enjoyment. But we can't."

"Well why not?" Hershel couldn't decide whether to be shocked at the bluntness or pleased that she was talking to him. "There's so little I know of the things I want to know. Like, why are we always hiding? Who's Descole?" Hershel flinched at the name "What were you and my mother like when I was younger? What was I like when I was younger?" she stood and raised her voice "You won't tell me anything! All I know is fancy bonnets and running from criminals. I don't want this anymore!"

"Flora…"Hershel was taken and aback and Flora seemed horrified by her own outburst.

"Father… Please, I'm sorry. You're wonderful I just- I need people in my life. You act like I'm some lost little girl, but you don't realise that I've grown up now. You don't need to spend so much time protecting me." Hershel knew this was true, but he still couldn't risk his past catching up to him and harming them.

"I promise Flora, you'll have answers to your questions. All of them, when the time is right."

* * *

 

"Emmy this is amazing! How did you ever find her?" Emmy lifted her skirts as they went round the corner, unused to being in the higher class parts of the neighbourhood. The only time she'd been down here was when she was learning to pickpocket, and was promptly kicked out.

"I found out her father's name from my dad, and then asked around a bit. It's not that hard really." Clive saw the house ahead of them, the girl sat by the window. He went to pick Emmy up and spin her round but due to his lack of strength ended up awkwardly hugging her waist. He brushed it off and hit her shoulder as she laughed at him.

"Thank you so much for making this happen! You're the best." Emmy grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back before he could run off.

"I just want you to realise something Clive. She may not be your soul mate; you only made eye contact with her. And for all you know she could have been staring at Luke. Or maybe something else'll happen; maybe her father will hate you." Clive unhooked himself from her grasp.

"If her dad hates me we can have one of those star crossed romances, like in that Romeo play."

"Did you ever watch the end of that play?"

"No but it's a romance so..." He moved away from Emmy and ran towards the gate in front of the house.

"They die Clive. They die." Emmy whispered to herself. She went to stand with Clive but noticed a figure emerging from the house, so she hung back behind the wall.

Flora exited the house, after seeing the boy waving at her by the gate. At first she assumed she was tired, hallucinating people who weren't there. But out in the garden she knew this had to be real. As soon as she reached the gate the boy started speaking to her.

"I know that it's late and this is very sudden, but after running into you I couldn't stop thinking about you." Flora smiled.

"You're the boy from the market place, aren't you?" Clive nodded "I was thinking about you as well, thank you so much for helping me."

"I wasn't sure if you felt that - Wait a second, what am I saying? I don't even know your name!" He bowed "My name is Clive Dove." Flora curtseyed back

"And I'm Flora." She left out a last name; she didn't think giving out her father's name would be safe, she didn't know her mothers and the name she usually went by, 'Flora Schrader' felt wrong to tell him. So just Flora. He seemed pleased all the same.

"Flora… I don't know what to say, I felt a kind of... Connection when I saw you, I want to get to know you. Urgh that sounds stupid doesn't it?"

"Not at all."

From back by the wall, Emmy watched the pair. She knew if that if he met up with her they he'd live plans for the revolution and there'd be no chance for her to join, but she couldn't bring herself to deny him. She decided to leave the couple gushing top each other and head back to her parents' house. As she turned she found herself staring at a familiar face.

"Swift? Why are you down here you know we're not allowed."

"I could say the same to you missy, didn't your dad want you to stay back."

"What are you doing?" Swift pulled her back into the shadows

"You see this house here? This is the house of that man that got away from us. Paolo says we're gonna rob it. We'll teach the old man." He slinked off down the street to where Emmy presumed he was meeting the other members. She knew they couldn't get there; Clive and Flora were still at the gate. They'd think she was involved, they might get hurt. She ran off after him, not caring enough to hide herself. She saw the hunched figure of Paulo down the way, followed by Rook, Bishop and the newly arrived Swift. They caught sight of her and stormed over.

"Get your own pitch!" she heard her father yell "Who does this tramp think she is?" Emmy became furious and moved towards them, blocking the path to the house.

"That's your own brat Paolo." He looked at her and clicked his tongue.

"Emmeline get on home, we don't need you here." Emmy balled up her fists.

"You can't rob this place, I know these people. It's just the man and his daughter, they aren't rich."

"Shut up, you don't know what you're on about, Bishop lift Rook over the wall." The shorter member gave an apprehensive look before lifting his tall partner.

"I'm gonna warn them you're here. I'm gonna…" she looked round her "I'm gonna scream, I'm gonna make them hear me."

"You wouldn't dare." Before he'd even finished speaking, Emmy let out an ear piercing screech that was likely heard in Monte D'Or. Paolo looked as if he was about to scream himself, but as noises emerged from the house he had to merely resort to threatening what would happen to Emmy and signalling the others to go. Bishop was still stood with Rook on his back, so promptly threw him off and ran for it.

* * *

 

Flora and Clive exchanged worried glances as they heard the scream and saw a group of men running from the street, Clive quickly recognised the voice.

"You have to go; my father won't like me speaking with people from the town." They quickly promised that they would meet again and headed in separate directions.

"Flora! Flora are you alright? I heard a scream, I was worried something might have happened…" Flora glanced through the gate, making sure Clive had definitely gone. Hershel was running to her with worry painted on his face

"That was me, I saw some men beyond the wall. But it's okay; they ran when they heard my cry." Hershel leant down and placed his hands against her face.

"You're sure you're okay."

"Yes father, they didn't do anything. I don't know what they were doing though." Hershel moved the hands to his face. He couldn't have found him so quickly, could he?

"I think that I do. You remember those questions you asked? About always hiding and the inspector?"

"No. No! Dad we can't go again!" She'd only just met Clive, and she knew exactly what Hershel was saying. He was doing exactly what happened whenever she had settled.

"I'm sorry Flora, we can't risk it. I'll find us a room at the Hotel Duke until it is safe. Then we may leave here for good, or we may return. I'm not sure what will happen next…" Hershel hurried back into the house. Flora resumed standing at the gate and hoping Clive had returned. When she saw no sign of him, she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it in a bow on the gate, as a reminder for if he ever came looking. She returned to the house upset, not noticing the older girl that stood back behind the wall listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly not a massive fan of this pairing any more so i might come back and edit this to be more platonic lmao


	10. One Day More

_One day more…_

Hershel stared out the window of the carriage, rain drops falling down like little tears, leaving watery trails in their wake. Not too long and they'd be at the hotel, he hated leaving but there was no other way he could stay safe. A small trunk of clothes sat by his feet, sat amongst them was a couple of picarats, enough to last for a week, and tiny golden apple. Sat beside him was Flora, a travelling cape wrapped round her shoulders and a sullen look upon her face. Hershel placed his hand upon hers as he gave instructions to the carriage driver. He couldn't help but think of that night so many years before, when he'd sat after he'd taken Flora in, when Descole had found him… He glanced outside nervously as if he expected his ghostly image to appear right beside him. So much had changed since then, yet it was still just him and his daughter riding into the night.

Flora herself was sat with her head against the window, silently fuming in the way only young girls can. She longed to go back, she'd finally found someone she could talk to, someone she could spend time with, She was finally happy.

But that time was gone.

There she was again, running and hiding with no explanation. She loved her father with all her heart but, just for that one night, she loathed him.

* * *

 

_How can I live when we are parted…?_

The rain started as Clive headed back to the house; he was desperate to carry on speaking with Flora. The danger had clearly passed but when he arrived there wasn't a single light on inside her home. He hoped for a moment that she may just have gone to sleep, but his revelation was cut short by something tied to the gate. A small pink ribbon in a bow, he untied it and ran it through his fingers. He was sure this was the one she'd been wearing earlier that evening. He couldn't figure out why it would have been left that, he'd never seen her tie it on there. He held it up towards the light of a lamppost that lay beside the path, finding a scrawling along the fabric. An address written in large sprawled letters that didn't look as if they'd belonged to someone delicate as Flora's. Clive pondered the idea for a minute, deciding there was only her who could have written it. He shoved the ribbon into his pocket and thought over his options. He could go and find this address, and see what was waiting for him there. Or he could rejoin the students at the pub to begin preparations for the next day. He kicked his feet through a puddle as he mulled over them, heading back towards the alleyway.

* * *

 

_What a life I might have known…_

Emmy ripped the fabric from the bottom of her skirt, once again winding it around her chest, hoping that would be enough to conceal her. She pulled her father's old jacket over herself, belting it with her own neckerchief. This combined with the trousers and larger boots made her virtually unrecognisable to anyone that was used to her regular yellow dress. She pulled her hair up underneath her hat, a red one she'd taken from the windowsill of the old man's house (she felt bad for taking it , but he'd left it behind anyway so she figured it was nothing of importance, he always kept the top hat on nowadays regardless). She admired her disguise in the broken mirror of her room before spearing a faint hint of dirt under her eyes, blending in as a street boy would be easier than trying to pass as one of the students.

She hoped Clive had found the message she'd left, Flora's ribbon was the perfect place to add it. She'd written in a style that she figured was unlike the letter she usually wrote. She hoped at least. If her plan succeeded then she'd solve both problems; Clive would stay away from the barricade and she would be able to sneak in. She'd prove herself. Emmy Altava wasn't one to keep away from the fight.

* * *

 

_Will you take your place with me….?_

"Okay so this is the flag we'll be using." Announced Randall as Luke raised it behind him, a large rustic coin with an R emblazoned on the front atop a blood red background. Arianna raised a hand.

"What's the 'R' stand for?"

"Revolution of course"

"I was sure you'd make it stand for 'Randall'…"

"Shut up Dalston." He rolled it back around the flag pole and propped it by the door, looking over the room that had quickly become like a factory. Crow handed out guns between the fighters, currently showing Aurora how to load it. Katia was sword fighting with Henry, a skill she'd learnt from her grandfather which would no doubt prove useful in the battle.

" Hey, where's Clive 'n Emmy?" Luke asked him, looking round as if trying to spot them.

"Clive should be here later." Randall answered without looking up from loading his own gun "I don't think Emmy's coming."

"Why not? She always said she'd join me if something big happened." Randall raised an eyebrow

"When have you spoken to Emmy?" Luke rubbed the back of his neck as if he'd said somethin g he shouldn't have

"Oh, well yeh know I've seen her at the rallies a couple of times s'all" Randall, fully aware the boy was hiding something, just made a noise of understanding. Several of the townspeople had come down to help out as well, some intending to join the fight and some to offer their services to the preparation. He saw Janice with a girl he assumed to be Melina talking in the corner, with a solemn look on her face. Not everyone was happy with the students going off to fight. A few of Crow's friends had come down as well, though most weren't planning to fight. A couple were staying

"Wait, what's this group thing called?" A couple of voices rose up, a couple mentioning the name 'The black Ravens' and a few with 'the Stansbury Crew'.

"I hadn't really thought of it… Black Ravens doesn't sound right, and The Stansbury crew doesn't really make sense if we're in London… I'll think about it."

* * *

 

_We will nip it in the bud…_

Descole around a table amongst the fellow inspectors and those who wished to stop the oncoming revolution. Word had passed between the towns that people were planning to hijack the funeral. Chelmey thought it would all eventually blow over if they just left them to it; Grosky opted to change the funeral date in order to catch them out, Jakes wanted to simply go down and arrest them that night and stop it then. But they weren't the ones in charge.

He was.

Descole told them of his idea, one which involved him finally revealing his true face to the public. It was a risk, but a risk he was willing to take. If he were to merely slip into the procession unnoticed, he could take them out from the inside whilst the police officers distracted them with negotiations. If that failed, they were allowed to move forth and shoot. He knew people were going to die, but if he could get to the centre of the group, he could discover the leaders and take them out whilst everyone else simply dispersed. There was no need to spill innocent blood.

* * *

 

_Never know your luck when there's a free for all…_

Dahlia pulled away from the man she was embracing, with a loud cheer and a new brooch in her hand. She retreated to her husband's side, as he pulled his shirt back to reveal a couple of guns tucked into his belt.

"Do you feel bad stealing from these people? Half of them are children."

"Yeah-" he took a bow from a woman hair behind him and presented it to her "But the other half'll be dead by tomorrow." Dahlia took the bow and placed it into her own bun.

"You've got a point there." She elbowed him "Did you see that kid by the entrance? The little one?"

"You thought the same thing I did. Ah well, he's not our problem now so what do I care?!" He grabbed a flag from the doorway and waved it around his head, yelling about the revolution. Until Henry Ledore soon took it off of him with a glare.

* * *

 

_My place is here…_

Clive walked towards the riverbank, the ribbon feeling heavy in his pocket. He knew what his choice was. If he made it out of this alive, he'd head over to the address. If not, he had a letter that he planned to leave with someone else.

As he entered the door a cheer rose up from those who expected him to abandon them, Clive was quickly given a gun and swept back into the world of the revolution. With the new title of 'The Future London', chosen by Clive, the group left to rest before the day.

A band of students, a heart broken girl, thieves, inspectors and a convict on the run.

_With just one more dawn_

_One more day_

_None of London could predict what would happen next_


	11. Do you hear the People sing?

The Funeral procession drummed quietly through the streets, the horses' footsteps thundering along the roads. People were stood with their heads bowed, whispers exchanged along the lines. Randall looked round the corner to see the first soldiers of approaching. According to Katia, the main carriage was large and black. It was slowly approaching. He could see Henry shaking beside him and squeezed his hand in comfort. His other hand was inside his pocket, grasped round one of the smaller guns.

The signal was given from Arianna, a short whistle that was passed along the crowd till it reached Randall's ear. He rushed forwards as the Carriage approached, making the horse jump up in fright. He threw his black coat to the side to reveal the red flag tucked into his belt. He unravelled it and held it above his head, jumping onto the carriage that had had then stopped.

"This is the time-" he yelled to the audience below "-time for us to stand up and fight against Hawks. This carriage-"he tapped it with his foot "-is proof that the only man that ever cared is DEAD." With a cry, the other students burst forwards, crowding the roads. Soldiers tried to calm the citizens down but were stopped as they began climbing to stand atop the procession. People were cheering, and Randall smiled. He saw Crow pull a gun from behind his back and aim it at a soldier.

"WAIT, If they had enough people backing us now there they may not even be a need to-"

A gun shot rang out below

"-shoot." The crowd moved out of the way to see a woman lying on the floor, clutching at her chest. A soldier stood looking horrified with his gun pointed towards her, it was clear he'd missed his target. A man with thick red glasses ran over and let everyone know it was Anton's wife that was caught in the crossfire, Sophia. Several people let out a cry and leapt towards the guard as Sophia tried to lift herself up. She was confirmed to be okay, but had to be carried inside one of the buildings by the man. Yet this was enough to have two separate signs begin to form. Many of the funeral dressed townsfolk began grabbing flags and fighting with the soldiers, who continued firing into the street hoping to hit one of the students. Aurora was nearly hit, but was pushed out of the way by the man who helped Sophia before. Randall didn't know him, but hoped to thank him when there was time. Henry tapped him on the shoulder amongst the forming chaos

"Should we head over now? They won't be able to stop us with this many on our side."

"I thought you didn't believe in the barricade Henry."

"But I believe in the people. And I believe in you, you know what you're doing." Randall laughed and shouted to the crowd.

"TO THE BARRICADE!" He led the people to where the clock shop was, luckily it wasn't too far away, and instructed them to grab as much furniture as they could find. Several sofa came flying out of the surrounding house windows, landing at what would be the base of the pile. The Clock Shop Owners threw their old grandfather clock out through the doors before retreating to go hide out somewhere else, they felt they'd be far too old to help with the Revolution. He himself headed to his house down the road with a few of the students in the hopes of getting more there. Luke grabbed a couple of the chairs as Amelia and Katia dragged a table back. Randall went to grab a remaining seat but someone sat down in it before he could.

"Angie, I need you to get off, this chair's for the Barricade." Angela swivelled round to look at him.

"Randall, they've taken every other chair here. I won't have any left if you take this one, then what's going to happen?" Randall leant the chair backwards, pulling her towards him

"Angie, it's my house as well and if I don't take a chair back I'm going to look ridiculous."

"Well you can't have-" She was cut off my Randall kissing her and pulling her into a dip as he kicked the chair away from her.

"You can have it back after we've rebelled against London, okay."

"You're an idiot." Randall lifted the chair up onto his shoulder and kissed her again.

"I know. I'll be back here as soon as I can, hopefully by morning."

* * *

 

"I need somebody who can go find out the National Guard's planning to do! There's no way they'll leave us without a fight." From the crowd, the man from the Procession that had helped stepped forwards.

"Excuse me? Mr Ascot, I'm Professor Sycamore. I used to work with the National Guard, I'm sure they'd trust me enough to fill me in."

"Perfect! Go and report back anything you can find out" The man hurried off as people began setting up supplies in the clock shop.

Clive wandered through the main section of the Barricade, it was building up nicely now, offering good cover. But he didn't have time to think about it, when the letter for Flora was still in his pocket. He'd told his friends that he'd forgotten about her, so how could he leave in the midst to go and deliver it. As he was distracted, he walked directly into a tall boy that was dragging a bedframe to the clock shop. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No it was my-" The voice was startlingly female sounding, and the boy seemed to notice as his voice deepened with his next words "I just wasn't paying attention, excuse me." The disguise couldn't fool him; he knew that voice far too well

"Emmy?" Clive lifted the hat of the boy to see his friends face staring back at him. "You're not supposed to be here!" Emmy took her hat off and shook down her hair

"No, but you aren't either."

"What do you mean? And why are you here?" Emmy sighed.

"The answer to both of those is the same; you're meant to be at the Hotel Duke with Flora."

"How would- The ribbon, right."

"I left it there so you'd follow it, then you'd be with your true love and I'd be able to fight without you trying to babysit me." She threw her arms into the air "I'm older than you Clive, and much better with a gun. Just because I'm Paulo's daughter or you want to protect me or whatever you r damn idea is, it doesn't mean you shouldn't trust me to be here." Clive looked shocked, and then pulled the letter from his pocket.

"Look. I can't get this letter to Flora, I made a promise to Randall. But you can." Emmy scoffed at him, amazed that he could say such a thing now.

"And why would I do that? You're just trying to scare me away from the Barricade again. I know what everyone here thinks of my family, I know they all think I'm useless but I don't care. I want to help." Clive looked upset, he stared at the ground. It was true that he'd wanted to keep her away from the fight but not for that reason. There was only one way to get this letter to Flora.

"No, it's because I trust you." He the letter out to her "I trust you to give it to her without reading it. I trust you Emmy. And I promise I won't try and 'babysit' you anymore. Okay."

".You can't stop me from coming back here afterwards"

"I know, if you want to get yourself killed then fine. I won't stop you."

"Fine."

"Fine." Emmy walked away letter in hand, Luke caught up to her clearly only just making it to the barricade.

"What's wrong Emmy? You look upset." He playfully hit her arm.

"Clive doesn't want me round the Barricade; he's worried I'll get myself hurt. He keeps saying it's not because of mum and dad but I know it is. I mean, you're much less qualified to be here but you're still accepted."

"What do you mean? I'm very qualified." She ruffled his hair.

"Luke, you're a kid. I should have got out of that inn back when you did, maybe I'd have s better life then. You seem to have done okay without their care." She pulled her hat back onto her head. "I need to go deliver this letter; I'll see you later yeah?"


	12. On my Own

Hershel sat waiting in the hotel room, the housekeeper, Becky, had been to check on him a few times but besides that there had been no interruptions. Flora had locked herself in the extra bedroom and he could understand why. They'd moved so many times in the past year that she'd never been able to settle down or meet anyone, and he'd done it to her once again.

The knock on his door came in the afternoon as he was completing a crossword to pass the time, at first he just expected Becky with a pot of tea but instead there was a tall girl with an oversized jacket. She seemed pretty annoyed and was waving a letter in her hand.

"Is there a Flora here?" Hershel raised an eyebrow, how did this girl know Flora? Though he had a feeling he knew this girl from somewhere… Perhaps they had met her on their travels.

"Yes. That's my daughter. What do you need?" He kept a hand on the door in readiness, just in case this woman was just some kind of pickpocket.

"I've got a letter for her; from a boy at the Barricade."

"The Barricade?" The girl sighed.

"They're revolting out by the clock shop." He kept a straight face, resolving to look into this revolution later.

"Ah… You can just hand that letter to me-" She pulled the letter towards her chest, concealing it.

"He said to give it to Flora."

"I assure you, she will know what this letter contains." The girl turned to leave "Ma'am, if there truly is a revolution, please be careful out there."

"Sure. You stay safe yourself." Hershel closed the door slowly as he watched her head down the steps. Making sure she was fully gone, he turned looked at the letter. He wondered how on earth a boy there knew Flora, and especially how he knew she was here. Reassuring him it was the best thing to do for both his and her safety, he carefully tore open the envelope.

"Dear Flora,

I can hardly believe we've been torn apart so soon after meeting, I miss you terribly. If this letter manages to find a way to you, I want you to know that I'm fighting in the revolution, trying to get a better future for this town. And if I happen to make it out alive, I will come and find you there at the hotel.

Yours, Clive."

Clive…. No, he didn't know that name. He didn't even realise Flora knew anyone from the Barricade. He wondered how on earth she could have met him, but the letter didn't specify. All he knew was that this boy cared for Flora enough to send a letter, and that he was likely to die if the revolution was as bad as the rumours implied.

He questioned if maybe this would blow over. But was stopped by the thought of Flora realising this Clive been killed. There'd been so much grief is her life already, with her mother Claire, the innkeepers, the constant moving….. Could he really just add another awful memory to the pile? He scribbled down a note on the desk and grabbed his top hat.

* * *

 

Back at the Barricade, Randall sat watching over the top of the pile. There had been no sign of anybody yet, and most of the group were beginning to feel slightly bored. Arianna had lain down to take a nap.

"Perhaps Sycamore is trying to hold them off?" Henry asked as he climbed up to sit with him.

"Maybe… It sounds weird to ask for someone to try and fight us, but the fact that nobody's shown up makes it seem like we aren't a threat. Like this barricade wasn't worth it…" he kicked a bit of the bed frame.

"You need to have faith Randall." They ended up waiting for several hours, until Sycamore made his way back. He called up to the Barricade and was welcomed back eagerly.

"I have done as you instructed me to and asked the officers…. They don't plan to attack us any time tonight." There was an audible groan from Randall "They want to starve us out, hit us when we can't fight back. Lay down your guard for tonight." Crow reluctantly put his gun away, everyone else followed afterwards.

"Wait a second…. You're lying." Luke walked over to where Sycamore was.

"What are you talking about boy?"

"I recognise your voice, you were in the square the other day." The man laughed in response.

"Yes, I was in town. Most people were." No, Luke stood up on one of the crates.

"You were the one busting up Paulo's gang. You whacked into me and picked me up by my jacket!" Clive moved forwards and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Emmy said that it was Descole that did that…" Luke pointed to the man's face.

"How would a simple professor have ties to the police? And look at him!" he once again gestured to him "He looks exactly like him. Anyone who wouldn't be able to tell that Sycamore is Descole is being stupid!" Randall examined the man's face.

"Actually…. Add a mask, and Luke's right." Luke waved his hands in the air in both celebration and exasperation. "Take this inspector to the Clock shop, I'll interrogate him later." Sycamore, Descole, laughed at them. A much more sinister laugh than there was before.

"You won't be here long enough to interrogate me; You'll be dead by morning." Several of the members stopped to stare at him.

"I'll interrogate you now then." Randall grabbed Descole by the jacket and lifted him towards his face aggressively, causing a fright amongst the crowd. "What have you told the officers?"

"All that matters is that they're all on their way. On their way to arrest the traitors."

"Yeah, you can really condemn traitors. Dalston, you take him to the shop." Dalston grabbed Descole under the arms,

"I say to just shoot him now; he's no good to us." He remarked. Descole challenged Randall to it, with breathless and slightly manic taunting and a couple of members raised their guns and yelled at him. Randall moved his hands to hush them.

"Not right now, we have to prepare ourselves. We'll deal with Descole afterwards. Our main fight is just beginning."

* * *

 

The rain started to fall as Emmy made her way back to the inn, she lifted the jacket above her head to shield herself but soon grew tired of walking half blind through the streets and let the rain soak her instead.

It was official then, Flora knew Clive was at the Barricade. She would probably try to follow and get herself killed as well. . Or perhaps the man would then read the letter and try to save them both. Emmy sighed; if he'd just listened to her then they'd be fine. But nobody listened to her, she wasn't even allowed in the meetings.

As she reached the inn's entrance she could hear faint gunshots in the distance, and hoped that they were just practising.

Oh who was she kidding, of course they weren't practising. The guards would definitely be there by now. They were fighting over there and she wasn't a part of it. She took one last look at her home before tying her hair back and running towards the Barricade. Regardless of what they saw her as, she wasn't going to let her friends fall, not while she could still help it.


	13. A little Fall of Rain

"This barricade and all the others throughout the towns aren't to remain here, Hawks has ordered us to take them down any way we can. Give up now or we'll be forced to shoot." The students remained behind the barricade as the gruff voice rang out again. Blinking in the rain, Randall addressed his team just loud enough for the police to hear.

"Have faith, they can't attack us. We have the people on our side."

"Nobody is coming to help you. The citizens are peacefully at home while you continue your foolishness out here. Come out calmly and we won't need to hurt anyone." Randall clenched his fist.

"They're lying. As soon as we head out there we'll be shot." He leant up slightly to peer through the crack in a wooden board. "We just need to hold them off until reinforcements arrive." There was a gunshot to the side of the building that Dalston was leaning against, making him and several others jump. "Or we could try and get rid of them now. Grab your guns everyone-" he lowered his voice "Avoid hitting anyone. But if they try and shoot one of us, ruin them." Another shot rang out as they gathered their supplies. Randall looked up to see the leader of the opposition, Chelmey, instructing his men to load their weapons as well. He gave Aurora a lift up to the taller part of the barricade and set his gun just over the top. "FIRE." A rain of bullets pummelled towards the officers, narrowly missing the front line and falling into the puddles on the floor.

"I see you've refused to give up then. I'm sorry to say this, but you've officially declared an attack against London. Boys, return their fire." The students ducked back down as they retaliate, one stray bullet nearly hitting Luke's hat off. As the officers realised how few students there were, they advanced towards them with guns raised. At that point the rain began to clear, the officers marching over the still wet stones.

"Randall they're approaching, how do we hold them off?" Another shot fired and Randall covered his ears. There's a scream from beyond the barricade.

"I don't know, Janice. I expected we'd have more recruits by now." From the backgrounds, a figure approached carrying a blazing torch. Clive, he had been sat in the background listening and waiting. He knew it was obvious that someone was going to get hurt unless those officers left. But there was nobody that could get rid of them. Did he really want to sit there and watch his friends die one by one? No. He lifted the flame above his head in full view of the officers; several aimed their guns at him.

"I wouldn't do that. We've got a pile of guns here, and I've got this fire. Now get back before I blow up the Barricade and kill you all myself." Arianna gasped and Dalston started yelling at him to get down. Chelmey stepped forwards and pointed towards him.

"If you blow it up you'll take yourself with it!" They were dead either way, so there was really nothing to lose

"And I'll take myself with it." He moved it closer to the guns, a look of seriousness in his eyes. Chelmey hesitated for a moment before turning round.

"The boy's bloody insane. Fall back, FALL BACK." As they retreated, Clive blew the torch out with a smile as Luke tackled him.

"What the 'ell were you thinking Clive! You could've killed us all." Clive simply ruffled his hair.

"I didn't though." Dalston was clearly refraining himself from screaming at him.

"I honestly thought we were all dead, because of that, you can go out the front and get all our bullets back." Clive hit his shoulder and checked over the top of the barricade. There weren't any soldiers, but there was…

"Wait Randall… there's someone beside the barricade. Are we missing anybody?" A quick head count confirmed that everyone was there " I'll go and check, they look like they're part of ours." He climbed down over the ladders and called out to them. "Wait, sir! Are you involved the Revolution?" The person nodded, so he headed towards them. There were no clear weapons so he knew that he was at least safe for now. As he got near to them he could make out their face.

"Clive… I got the letter to her, her father said she'd read it."

"Emmy? What are you doing here; I said not to come back." Emmy waved her hand around, breathing heavily.

"No, you said you didn't care. I came back to help." She paused for a second to lean forwards. "It must have been a really long way, I'm so tired now." She stumbled for a moment; Clive placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You should come with us behind the Barricade. They could be regrouping any time."

"No, I don't think…"

"What do you mean?" Clive noticed that Emmy was suddenly breathing very harshly.

"I don't think I can." She falls fully that time, Clive barely catching her. He could feel something warm against her wet hair. He lifted his hand to see it stained red. Clive's eyes began to water, but he tried to keep a straight face as Emmy looked up at him

"Emmy, I'm need to take your coat off you, is that alright?"

"Yeah…" he unbuttoned it slowly and saw worse than he expected. A large pool of blood, spread like a flower and staining her yellow vest a dark, ugly red. One of the police shots seemed to have hit its mark.

"You're hurt; I need to get you over there now." Emmy lifts a hand to her stomach.

"It's just a little damp s'all. It's raining, you gotta expect that." Her words began slurring as Clive moved them both to lie down. She hadn't even seemed to have noticed her injury, she was either in shock was just trying to believe she was fine.

"The rain's stopped. Emmy…. Emmy, you're dying". Emmy looked down at where her hand was.

"Oh…. Did I get shot?" Clive nodded solemnly. "I just wanted to fight them…. But I didn't have a gun to…." Clive stayed silent as she spoke, he words fading out before she finishes her sentences. "I'm sorry for coming back." Clive stroked the back of her hair.

"Don't apologise. I can't stop you from living your life Emmy" He choked slightly at his choice of words "I'm sorry that I've been trying to. Now come on, let's get you over there. Arianna should be able to-"

"No Clive…. I'm not going to make it, there's no reason to upset all of them."

"Well I'm not just gonna let you die out here alone." He hooked an arm underneath her, intending to help her up

""I'm not alone. She whispered "I've got one of my best friends right here."

"If that's what you want."

"Can you do me a favour? Tell the others I'm sorry as well. Especially Luke, I've known him since he was little." She laughed slightly "He used to stay in the old inn, back before it was a hell hole, but he moved out when he was no more than a kid. Don't let him get hurt, okay?" Clive looked up as tears threaten to fall.

"This is all my fault… If I hadn't sent you with the letter-"

"I'd probably still have been shot. Don't blame yourself." She sighed "Can you at least stay with me… Just until I'm gone?" Clive took a hold of her hand.

"Of course." Her elbows slackened as she smiled at him

"Thank you." The two stayed together, and as Emmy's grip on his hand loosened, he found himself beginning to cry.

"Clive, what's going on over there, they'll be regrouping soon." Randall called over the wall, not seeing where they were tucked away. He yelled again before Clive saw him climbing over the wall. "Clive you need to…" He stopped as he saw the concealed face that lay against the barricade. "Who is it?"

"Just help me get her over the Barricade." Randall turned and moved some of the debris out of the way, creating a small path. Clive took the body under his arms and carried her over past where the students were gathered. There were once again questions of who it was and if they were hurt. Clive laid her down on the floor noticing that, unusually, she was smiling.

"Her name was Emmy. Emmy Altava" There's an outcry from Luke, who tries to push himself to the front of the crowd. "She didn't have to come here but… she wanted to. She's braver than any of us here." The younger members approached, trembling. Luke flung himself to the floor, talking to her and trying to get her to wake up. "She wanted me to tell Luke, tell all of you, that she's sorry. But I say she has nothing to be sorry for."

"Her death may have been less extravagant that she'd have hoped, but it will not be in vain." Randall stepped away from moving the furniture back. "We fight here for her; the bastards who did this won't get off easily."


	14. Night of Anguish

The toll of Emmy's death still weighed them down, but the students began to compose themselves. Randall sat near the back; Clive had refused to speak to anyone and sat inside with Emmy, he worried for him but knew that it would take the boy a while to come to peace with this. As he sat, he watched the others move around idly, Arianna sat bandaging the arm of Crow, who'd fallen when trying to avoid a bullet. Aurora and Luke were quietly talking to each other, he couldn't hear their exact words but Aurora seemed quite upset. He sighed to himself, he shouldn't have let people this young come here. They were just going to get hurt. There was a yell from the top of the barricade.

"There's someone here!" Called Dalston, who'd taken over the watch "He's wearing a uniform, but he's not got a weapon."

"What's he doing?" Dalston shrugged as the man attempted to enter the barricade. Randall picked up his gun and aimed it at him as he walked in, prompting others to do the same. The man seemed around his age, but appeared to act much older. "State your purpose."

"I come here as a volunteer." The man seemed trustworthy, but Randall knew there was a chance that this could be a spy.

"We had a 'volunteer' here earlier, a man named Descole. We haven't decided what's going to happen to him yet, but if you can't prove you're here to help us then you'll face the same fate." The new man seemed much more apologetic, there was definitely a chance that he was being truthful.

"My name is Hershel Layton. I can guarantee that I'm here to help you." Randall pushed his gun closer, he'd seen this man during the rally, but he didn't seem to be joining in.

"But if you can't prove tha-"

"Hold on Randall" called Luke from the other side of the Barricade "I know 'im, 'e's the one that Paulo tried to rob. We're on the same side." Randall looked over at Luke before lowering the gun.

"You're lucky that he knows you. But just be aware that if you try and attack any one of us, you'll be dead before you can even pull the trigger." Hershel nodded.

"I would expect no less. Thank you si- MOVE." Randall found himself being pushed out of the way by the man. Offended at being thrown to the ground, he began to yell at the man but jumped as a bullet hit the place he had just been stood. He raised his eyes to the rooftops to see one of the policemen hidden up there. He fired a shot at them, causing them to retreat. Hershel straightened up his jacket. "I'm sorry for shoving you; there wasn't enough time for a warning."

"Are you kidding?" Randall hit him on the back, taking him by surprise. "He nearly hit me, you were great!" Randall tucked the gun back into his belt "Sorry about all that 'we'll kill you' stuff. If there's anything that I can do to help you, just tell me." Hershel seemed to know what he had in mind immediately.

"You said there was a spy named Descole, where is he now?" Randall pointed towards the shop behind him.

"In there. " He leaned to see round him.

"I have a personal history with him. Will you allow me to deal with him?"

Randall passed a spare gun to him "Do what you have to, he's yours." As Randall headed off to speak with the others, Hershel slipped inside the shop. It was a large building and though many clocks had been thrown upon the barricade, there were still walls of them lined up and ticking in unison. In the middle of the room, with his arms tied behind one of the room's main beams, is Descole. Hershel looked over him; he was much less frightening now. The mask gone from his face, lying discarded on the floor. The revealed face seemed much more human than the façade he'd hidden behind for years; it was difficult for him to look at. Hershel made his way over to him, not catching his attention until he spoke.

"Descole?" he looked up, eyes widening upon seeing who was there.

"Layton. Ha, I should have known you'd come to mock me. Are you part of the so called rebellion as well?" He looked over at the gun "And I see you've come to kill me now. " Hershel lowered his hand to hush him.

"There's no need to worry. You're safe with me here."

"What are you talking about?" he struggled to look the man in the eye as he moved round to untie his hands. When he was free, he strode towards Hershel, trying to work out his intentions.

"Go. Go now." He picked the mask up from the floor and handed it to him. Descole simply laughed. "What are you waiting for?"

"I know what you're trying to do Layton. You want to trade my life for yours, by letting me go free. It's a foolish trick. Just kill me now and be done with it." He lent against the wall, providing no resistance "You always were a criminal, now we can just add murder to the list" Hershel forced the mask into his hand.

"You're wrong about me. The only crime I ever committed was caring about the people. That's why I stole the bread, that's why I helped Claire when you arrested her back in Folsense. I cared for them. It's something you'd never understand." Descole took the mask and placed It back over his eyes, disguising any humanity that he had been showing.

"I care about Justice. And you will get yours."

"You're so blinded by your own ideas of justice that you never stop to look at the issues. The students out there are fighting for a cause they believe in. just like you."

"They can't possibly believe this will help London." Hershel took the gun and fired at the wall.

"This isn't your battle to fight. Leave, before they work out that I haven't killed you." Descole began to walk towards the back door, but he stopped to face him again.

"If we both make it out of this alive, you'll still answer to me. You know that, don't you?"

"I never expected any different. Until the next time we meet." He tipped his hat slightly as Descole left, before going to tell Randall that the spy was taken care of.


	15. Drink with Me

Hershel left the clock shop feeling proud, Descole spoke of revenge, but he knew in his heart that this wasn't something the inspector would soon forget about. When he told the students, they quickly accepted that Descole was dead and, much to Hershel's relief; they weren't too keen on checking how he'd killed him.

As everybody moved past the subject of the spy, Hershel went to sit down on one of the spare boxes, realising how tired he was from running here. He hadn't stopped since he'd set off from the hotel which had to have been a few hours ago at least. Reminding himself of why he was there, he looked round, trying to find either of the particular people he'd expected to be at the barricade.

"Does anyone here know of the woman who sent me here?" he was met with looks of confusion.

"There wasn't anybody who sent for you." Replied Henry. Hershel frowned, and tried to recall the person in his mind. He'd warned her to stay away from the barricade, so perhaps she'd done just that. But surely people would know her, as she'd known them, even if she wasn't here.

"No, no but she brought me a letter. She had brown hair, was wearing a long yellow coat?"

"You'll be thinking about Emmy Altava." Answered someone from above.

"That should be her, I'd like to thank her for the information she gave me-" Hershel was unaware of the grave silence that had fallen over his companions "-and to apologise for reading the letter. Where is she?" While Hershel waited for an answer, the young boy in the blue hat him sat beside him, whispering.

"She's dead, sir." Hershel froze. That couldn't possibly be true. Though he thought back to the boy upstairs in the shop, he'd bet anything that it was her with him. It had been hardly anytime between them meeting and him getting there, what on earth had happened?

"I'm so sorry to hear that." He heard a vague sniffle from the boy as he wiped his face with his sleeve. "Did you know her well?"

"Emmy was my best friend. Like a sister to me."

"She seemed like-"

"But then she came out here and got shot when the police were here." The boy continued talking, obviously caught up in what he was saying. He was clearly upset, but there had been no sign of it since he'd came. Maybe it was best to let the boy express his grief now. " I expected people would get 'urt, Randall told me so, but I just didn't think it would 'appen so suddenly."

"It seems like you really cared about her." Hershel placed a hand round his shoulders tentatively, the boy leaned into him. "I hate to say this, but I don't think you should be here. It seems far too dangerous." After a few seconds, the boy turned to look at him, tears trailing on his stoic face.

"I would but… she told 'im to tell me that she was sorry. But I don't think she should be sorry. It isn't 'er fault; it's the fault of the people who shot. I want to make sure they beat them, for 'er." Hershel smiled at his enthusiasm, cautious of what may happen if he stayed but not wanting to ignore his wishes.

"I believe it's a truly noble thing to do. I'm sure Emmy would be very proud of you." The boy gave a small smile.

"I hope you're right. Thank you mister."

"Layton."

"Thank you Mister Layton." He grabbed Hershel's hand in a small attempt at a handshake. "I'm Luke, Luke Triton."

"Lovely to meet you." It seemed as though Luke had decided that Hershel would be his new person to look up to in Emmy and Clive's absence, as he ended up sitting with him for the majority of the day, though Hershel didn't protest. It was rather nice to have someone like Luke looking up to him; he couldn't help but be reminded of a younger Flora.

"How do you feel about the Revolution anyway?" Luke asked, swinging his legs against the box. "All this business with Anton."

"I haven't lived here for very long, I'm afraid I'm not aware of all the details." Luke's jaw dropped, but he quickly closed it.

"Why're you 'ere then? Anton was the great leader of London, was the only one who cared about us- The person meant to take over from him was awful, so we 'ad to do something about it. So if we stay 'ere and protest, the citizens are gonna 'ave to listen to us." Hershel laughed.

"My, you're very informed. " Luke tipped his hat to him.

"Well I'm the eyes and ears of London, the one who gives all the information back and forth. To the students I'm very important; I'm like Randall's apprentice."

"Well he's very lucky to have someone like you around; I'd certainly want an apprentice like you." Hershel rubbed the top of his head. Luke clasped his hand together and looked at the floor, clearly thinking.

"Well when this is all over, when Lady Sophia – Anton's wife- is in charge" he added the explanation in response to Hershel's blank reaction to the name "Then we won't need to 'ave our meetings anymore, and he won't need an apprentice. So maybe…"

"Maybe you could be my apprentice?" Luke nodded.

"If that would be alright with you"

"Of course it would."

* * *

 

As the lights dimmed, the students found themselves becoming weary, but knew they couldn't sleep just yet. Randall found his eyes drooping when he tried speaking to the others. Dalston saw and took this opportunity to fetch everyone drinks from inside the clock shop. He passed them round to people, making sure the younger ones were given the appropriate glasses, no matter how much Crow clamoured to steal the bottle from under his arm.

"Come on everyone, we can't let ourselves be brought down by this. I raise a glass-" Dalston lifted his, as the other followed "To Miss Altava, long may she stay in our hearts." Randall lifted his, afterwards, proposing his own ideas. Still feeling very tired, but wanting to encourage the group.

"And one to the Revolution, every battle brings us closer to victory. Emmy's sacrifice will be remembered-"

"Be quiet Randall, we're trying to honour someone and you're just bringing it back to your ideals." The comment came from Henry, who sat quietly sipping from his glass by the back. Randall raised an eyebrow at the outburst, and questioned him

"I thought you were fine with my ideals. I thought we all were." Henry placed his glass beside him and spoke slowly, punctuating his words with calm agitation.

"We  _were,_  but using the wake of someone's death to justify them is just disgusting." Randall stopped, thinking over what he'd said.

"That's not what I'm doing at all! You're completely misunderstanding-"

"Not every death is a sacrifice, or a step forwards. Sometimes it's just that, a death. I know you want to die for a good cause, and you're worried that you won't. "

"Henry that's enough."

"You think your death won't mean anything, and that nobody will remember you. So you're making sure they remember Emmy . But Emmy wasn't worried about that; don't force her to be the martyr that you want to be." With this, Henry climbed down and entered the clock shop, avoiding the eyes of Randall as he passed. He entered as Clive exited, apparently unaware of what had happened. When he did, Luke raised his glass in appreciation.

"And to Clive, and 'is true love!" the people around him giggled as Clive turned red. Hershel stopped, he recognised that name. But there was still the possibility…

"Oh shut up. I don't even know if I'll make it back to Flora" that was it. This was definitely who Hershel had been sent to find. He made a mental note of which one he was. "Thanks for the appreciation though." Randall tore his eyes away from the clock shop door.

"We need to keep our spirits up; the citizens will rise up soon." Everyone had noticed that their numbers hadn't grown since the first meeting. Nobody had joined them. "As long as we're here fighting, the people of London can't ignore us."

" You want help with anything Randall?" asked Clive, yawning. "I haven't really done a lot today."

"No, you've had a rough time. You should get some rest. Aurora, you take the watch."

As everyone settled down to fall asleep, mainly propped against parts of the barricade, Hershel stayed alert. He knew now that Clive was the one he'd come to find, and vowed to protect him. It was clear from the letter that he made his daughter happy, and despite his wariness about how they met, he trusted her. But the troops were coming, he could feel it. He looked at the barricade and saw the girl's eyes wavering. He climbed up the side of the barricade to meet with her.

"Miss, I'd be perfectly happy to take over now if you wanted to get some sleep as well." Aurora happily accepted, curling up against the wardrobe beside him. Hershel sat and looked over the people. Someone had been lost in hardly any time, and it would only take one bullet for anyone here to be gone as well. The sniper earlier was just the start of it. There was so much more to come, and he had to be there to get Clive out of danger.


	16. Little People

"The people haven't stirred" stated Randall, polishing his gun with the end of his jacket. He'd been expecting something to happen overnight, but the barricade was as empty as it had been before "We've been abandoned but the citizens and some of our own allies." He gave a subtle look over to the clock shop, which Henry had not yet left. Katia placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't be too brought down by this. The citizens are just scared; they appreciate this even if they aren't here. "

"Yes but… I don't want to waste lives." He rose his voice to the crowd "Anyone who wishes to leave, I'm not going to stop you." A few looked as if they wanted to go, but nobody moved.

As Amelia moved round collecting the leftover glasses, she spoke quietly.

"We trust you. If we don't take the risk, we have no chance." Aurora spoke up as well.

"If I am to die, I want it to be for a good cause. I will die here with my friends, for the future." Several of the others agreed. Though, the group could hardly sit down before there was a light thunder of footsteps in the distance, in time with each other, on every beat.

"That may be sooner than we'd have hoped. CROW, HOW IS IT?" He yelled to the top, Crow leaned over the edge to peer into the distance.

"TROOPS ADVANCING. NEARLY DOUBLE THE SIZE OF THE LAST." He called back. Randall threw a gun up to him and cursed.

"I didn't think they'd be back till later. Hold yourselves in readiness; we may not be as lucky this time." He peered through the barricade once more, seeing that Crow was correct. They were still far away, but there were clearly line after line of men waiting there. It wasn't just Chelmey this time, but several other lead officers. He swore that he could see inspector Descole among them, but shook of the thought, it wasn't possible for him to be there. The front line set up their weapons, aiming them towards the barricade. Crow hastily ducked down.

"What do we do now then Randall?" He raised his gun.

"We fight, just as we always do." Crow nodded, moving into position. Randall aimed his gun and fired, warding them away. Several minutes passed, but the inspectors had not moved closer. It was then that Randall realised what their game was.

"How are holding up Janice?" he asked, reloading his gun.

"There's enough weaponry, but we're short on ammunition." Randall knew it. They'd been waiting so that they'd be defenseless, and the troops could move in easily. "If we keep it up, we'll run out in minutes." Clive's head raised at this mention, noticing an opening in the barricade. He tapped Randall on the back.

"I'm going over. There's bodies there, fully loaded guns just laying by their sides." Randall waved him away.

"I can't let you do that, you'll get killed. We'll hold out with what we've got, Arianna, check in the shop for more supplies." Clive stopped her.

"We already did, there's nothing there!" he turned to face Randall "I'm going out there." Hearing this, Hershel moved forwards.

"Why don't I go, if I'm hit then it isn't as much of a loss." Clive furrowed his eyebrows, persistent that he would go. While the three argued, nobody noticed the small boy who was already climbing up the side of the barricade. And still nobody noticed till he was at the top. Arianna was the first to see him.

"Oh my word, Luke get down from there! You're going to hurt yourself." Everyone else raised their heads to see him smiling from the top, and all began yelling for him to get back, Crow near enough trying to pull him down. Luke simply began climbing down the other side.

"You need someone small, and you need somebody fast. I'll be back in two minutes." Ignoring the cries of the students, he descended. Whistling as he jumped to the floor. The other side of the barricade was a strange place to be. He knew there were men there but he couldn't see any of them, they were too far away. Luke moved over to the soldier lying nearest the barricade, picking up the gun beside him.

"LUKE." There was a shout as a bullet flew past him, hitting the side. Luke stared at the hole before throwing the gun through one of the gaps. He yelled to the silhouettes in the distance.

"What are you trying to do? You think I can't put up a fight because I'm small? Never try and hit somebody from behind." He went to the next body. A bullet skidded across the ground in front of him, Luke jumped back in fright. "Stop being so cowardly, if you want to try and stop me then-" Luke cried out as the third hit him in the leg. He bit his lip, struggling to stand. He picked up the second gun, using it to prop himself up.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE" He moved slowly, trying to get back to the barricade, but knowing there was no way he'd be able to.

"I can't believe that you're so scared that- that you'd try and hit someone like me. If you're so scared of me now. Just you wait until… I grow up. Then you'll be-" A final shot hit, dead on its mark. Luke's eyes widened, trying to focus until they simply fixed themselves on staring straight ahead. As he tried to get a hand to his chest, he fell backwards, tripping against one of the soldiers. There was a great hush over the barricade, interrupted only by the dull thud of the boy against the stones.


	17. The Final Attack

Randall watched as Chelmey halted his men. They stopped, staring at the boy who seemed even smaller in death. He put a hand to his chest before speaking to them. Calmer than he'd been before.

"You at the Barricades listen. We didn't want to go this far, but you leave us no choice. Give up your weapons or we'll be prepared to kill." Chelmey took a step forwards. "Do you really want to throw your lives away?" The Barricade was quiet, all eyes towards the enemy lines.

"We have to beat them." Whispered Randall. He felt tears prickling his eyes as he saw Hershel running forwards, collecting Luke into his arms. Why did he bring someone so young here? He knew the chances and he'd still risked them.

"We don't stand a chance against them." Says Arianna, refusing to look anywhere near Luke.

"I know we don't stand a chance. They're going to kill us no matter what we do. But I'm not going down without a fight." He picked his gun off of the floor, ignoring how little ammunition was left. There was no choice but a taking another risk "Who's with me?"

"We all are, Randall." Dalston said; fury in his voice. ""We'll make them pay." Crow wiped his face with his hand.

"Get revenge for everyone they've hurt." Several others rose up, vowing to fight here till death in the name of those who couldn't. Randall looked round at all the people who'd stayed with him, through his stupid ideas. He spoke to them all a final time, not paying attention to the hoarseness of his voice.

"And this won't be us dying in vain. We'll let them all know that they can't take down our revolution." He grabbed the red flag from atop the barricade, clutching it in his hand, he fired another shot. The others followed his lead, taking down several of the front line.

* * *

 

Hershel quickly moved inside, trying to avoid the fight that was starting to break out. He hugged Luke against his chest, but it was obvious that he was already gone. He ascended the steps, it was difficult, but this was the least he could do for the boy. He laid him on the floor, his shoulders leaning against Emmy's. There they laid in a peaceful silence, the boy in blue and the woman in yellow. Just above them Hershel knelt, staring at both of their faces, feeling something he didn't quite understand. He brushed a hand over each of their faces before moving away, hiding himself behind one of the wooden posts. He wished he could go out and fight, but there was a promise he needed to keep.

After a few minutes the shots of the barricade dwindled, it was clear how low their ammunition was running. The soldiers seemed to notice this, as they began making their way towards the barricade.

"If you won't give up, we have to stop you. You're a menace to this city." The first hit was towards Amelia. Randall reached to pull her away, but the bullet was just too fast. She tumbled from the side of the barricade, dead before she hit the floor. Randall cried out, there wasn't even a moment to mourn her. Randall found the soldier who'd hit her and aimed in his direction. Barely a second later, one had lodged itself into Clive's arm. He was alright, but ended up tripping backwards from shock. That time, Randall managed to grab hold of him before anything could happen. Clive made his way to the floor, clutching his arm. Feeling weak, he laid back against the barricade, assuming that he'd be dead in a few minutes anyway.

Over the other side of the fighting, Katia slammed her gun against the wall. She'd completely run out of bullets and was defenceless. She noticed several soldiers attempting to climb the barricade; she took the gun and hit it against the one that was furthest up, disorienting him for a couple of seconds. She noticed one of the other students still battling.

"JANICE!" the other girl turned round and fired as soon as she realised what was happening.

"What's wrong with your gun?" she asked, as the soldier fell. Katia turned with open palms.

"Empty. And there's none-" Her eyes widened as something hit her side. She fell forwards towards Janice. Janice hooked her under the arms, keeping her elevated. She noticed a woman watching through the window crack of the house beside them.

"Ma'am! Ma'am please!" as she called, her woman looked startled and pulled the window shut. She called Aurora over to her, so that she could help to carry her. Katia groaned as the two moved her to the door of the house. Janice knocked incessantly on the door as Aurora yelled. "Please, you have to help us! She needs shelter."

"I don't want to be here, I want to leave." Aurora repeated to herself. They stood at the door praying somebody would answer. As they pleaded, a high ranked soldier approached them, raising his gun against Aurora's chest. Aurora's eyes widened as she recognised the man, and the mask covered the sorrow in Descole's eyes as he fired the shot. In Katia and Janice's last moments, they were both thinking of their loved ones. They just hoped that Sophia and Melina wouldn't be heartbroken.

Randall looked over at the people fighting, feeling his chest tighten when he could only see a fraction of his friends. Seeing that the other side still had a vast army left, he regretted his wish to die at their hands. He gripped the flag tighter as he ran into the clock shop, making sure everyone else was following. It was only Arianna, Dalston and Crow with him.

"Where are we going?" asked Crow as they ran up the stairs, Randall began kicking things in their path behind them in an attempt to block the opposition off.

"There should be a way out if we can get to the back staircase." With the barricade unguarded, the soldiers were quick to storm the shop, following them up the stairs. Randall froze as he heard footsteps. He checked over the railing but couldn't see anyone coming up. Dalston looked over as well, gun poised to shoot.

"I heard 'em, but there doesn't seem to be-" a gun shot went off and Randall jumped aside as Dalston hit the ground.

"They're shooting up through the floor". Crow and Arianna looked panicked and gripped each other's hands. Two one more shots and they both fell. Randall looked around, he was completely alone. The large clock face of the shop front ticked loudly behind him, deafening. The soldier began to make their way up the steps when they realised that there was no way of hitting him from below. He back against the glass wall, hands shaking but still gripping on the red fabric of the flag.

"According to my men, you're the one behind all of this." Stated Chelmey as he walked towards him, gun raised. Randall looked round, seeing the faces of his friend that lay beneath the soldier's feet. He'd caused all this. Randall waited; about to raise his hands in defeat.

"He is, and I believe he's done a very good job." There was another voice in the room when Henry walked out from the shadows. Randall looked shocked, having forgotten he was still in here, they hadn't spoken since their argument. Henry faced him. "I didn't believe in him at first, but I've been thinking about it and here he is; standing tall in the face of danger." Chelmey looked desperately at the two of them, finding himself unable to hit either one. Randall raised an eyebrow.

"Henry, you said you wanted no part in the revolution. What changed your mind?"

"You did. And I'd like to take part in it now, even if just for the last few moments." He smiled as he moved to stand beside Randall. "If you'll permit it?" Randall grabbed Henry's hand and squeezed it tightly, fondly remembering his life. The times with him and Angela, the student meetings and his beloved second in command that stood with him till the end.

"I'm so glad you're here." He raised the flag high above his head and screamed "LONG LIVE LONDON."

"FIRE" The gunshot hit him directly between his ribs, knocking him backwards. Randall crashed back into the window as Henry's hand slipped from his grasp, he fell towards the streets below, held up only by the fabric end snagging on the clock hands and falling behind, a blood red back drop against the shop as he hung there by his foot, swinging. Looking so at peace with himself that he seemed like a painting on the wall, a mural of a fallen hero rising above the chaos of the barricade.

* * *

 

From the anarchy happening inside with the soldiers moving around trying to find anyone who remained, Hershel Layton crawled out of the door unseen. He moved around, scanning for faces in the crowd, wishing he'd never had to look. When he caught sight of the boy he was looking for slumped against the wood, he ran over. After realising there was a chance he could be saved, he began to look around the rubble. When he saw the sewer entrance by the side of the road, he knew what he'd have to do to make it out alive. Lifting Clive onto his shoulder, he made his way over, unknowingly closing this chapter of both his and Clive's lifetime.


	18. Soliloquy

The simple click of the Inspector's heel was all that could be heard. He walked towards the Clock shop, stopping just below the boy who was strung from the windowpane. He stared up at the young man's face, feeling something within him that he couldn't quite place. Most of the revolutionaries had been gathered by his troops and were lying inside, but that one remained. Broken glass stuck into his hair, the bloodied tips mingling with the red strands. He wasn't old at all, definitely much younger than Descole. It was sad to see.

He walked into the now ruined shop, stepping over the beams that had fallen, the wood weak from the constant fire. There lay many people in a line down the centre, some looking fulfilled and peaceful, while other's had their faces still burning with fury. His attention was caught by one on the end, nearly half the size of everyone else. He went and knelt beside, recognising him as the little boy from the marketplace that revealed his identity. Luke Triton. He was about the same as age as his daughter had been. Descole hadn't realised there were still children on the barricade.

A tear fell and landed beside the boy's face, Descole quickly wiped it from his cheek. In doing so, his fingers brushed against the corners of his mask. He pulled it away from his eyes, and stared at it before leaving it on the floor. His hand moved back up towards his jacket and unpinned a large medal which he pinned against Luke's chest. Descole stood up again, blinking, seeing things in a way he hadn't seen for years. He looked over the people there, matching the faces to the people that he'd seen before the fighting began. Looking out specifically for one man.

But he wasn't there.

"Chelmey, was there anyone else found?" he called across the room. Chelmey quickly glanced over to his men who shook their heads.

"Only the one on the clock. No others, that I know of." He placed his hands in his trouser pockets. "Real shame, all of it. I never wanted it to come to this"

"No one did." Descole walked back outside of the shop, his troops busy clearing the barricade away. Layton was definitely there, and no one had reported someone escaping. He sat down against one of the broken chairs; the sun was dimming but was still too bright for his newly uncovered eyes.

"Where do you want us to move the guns sir? Most of them are broken." Asked one of the soldiers. Desole answered without looking.

"Just over there, there should be a cart by the sewers." Descole pointed over and, in doing so, gave himself an idea. The entrance looked as if it had been moved, and the tunnel was just tall enough for a man to fit through. "Actually, give them here. I'll take them over."

* * *

 

Layton huffed as he moved forwards, he could barely see past the brim of his hat. The grime of the sewers swirled round his feet as the dead weight of Clive on his shoulder made every step near impossible. The smell there was indescribable, assaulting him every time he took a breath. He moved Clive round to lie in his arms; his heartbeat was still very strong, so Hershel knew that there was no way to give up now. He waded on, attempting to cover his face with his shirt collar. The darkness made sure he never saw the drop in the path, as his foot stepped forward and felt no floor; he clutched Clive to his chest. His feet skidded against the floor and sent the two of them hurdling towards the floor. There was a great splash in the sewers and as Layton tried to stand up he felt his mind go blank as his sight as his head hit against the wall.

Now, throughout the fighting, there had been one person working underground. Though, not necessarily in the way that would have helped the students. He made his way through the sewers, lantern in hand and a sack full of items. His clothes were covered in dirt and his moustache was drooping but none of this bothered him. He grinned as he saw the two figures on the floor. He held the lantern over the smaller ones face, he was mainly submerged but his head had managed to stay clean, including the hat atop his head.

"Don't mind if I do." He grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag, also grabbing a pocket watch from the boy's waistcoat. He'd been down in the sewers for days 'cleaning up' after the revolutionaries. Many soldiers had found their way down there, and then never found their way out, so to speak. At first, Don Paolo had felt bad for stealing from the dead. But he soon realised that this was a dog eat dog world, and all rules vanish when the streets are lined with guns. He leant over to the other person, whose face had been in the water. When the light hit his face, Paolo was taken aback. He smiled again as he reached into his coats, looking for a prize from the man who'd wronged him many times. As he did, Layton started to move. His eyes blinked open slowly and, as soon as he realised where he was, he grabbed hold of the other body. After making sure the boy was alright, he looked back at the other

"Paolo?" the man pulled his hand away from Hershel and threw his arms in the air.

"Layton! I just saved your life." Hershel pushed him away and began to pull Clive up from the floor. "You should be grateful."

"How do I get out of here?" He was still dizzy from the fall, and could barely work out which way he was facing.

"Down there, you haven't got far to go." Paolo waved the lantern in the direction "Long live the Revolution!" he added as they went off, before moving looking around for more bodies.

* * *

 

Descole found the other end of the sewers without trouble, with many people having abandoned the street already in the chaos of the fight. It wasn't long before he saw someone emerging from the tunnel; clearly they'd been travelling for quite a while. He smiled; proud that he'd gotten it right. The man held another body on his back, and which as they exited he lowered to the floor. His head then rose to look up at the above platform.

"Descole, it's good to see your face." Descole sneered at phrase "I knew it wouldn't be long till you were back to work. Now please, this boy's done nothing wrong. At least let me return him to a doctor."

"You snuck out of the fighting, soon after I said you'd be arrested, and now want me to believe it was all for this boy. Do you think me stupid Layton?"

"I know you're a good man Descole."

"I don't need your sympathy."

"But please, just an hour and then you can do as you please. I'll be at the Hotel Duke." Descole considered this a moment, seeing the desperation in Layton's eyes as he checked over the feebly stirring boy with him. If he allowed this boy to die here when he had the possibility to be saved, then he was no less than a killer.

"Go Hershel. Go before I change my mind." Descole watched as he picked the boy up again and headed on his way, the Hotel Duke wasn't far. It wouldn't take long for him to get there. Descole considered going there now and waiting, but he was aware of Hershel's daughter that waited at home. It was easier to give them an hour of peace. When Layton was fully out of his sight, Descole was overcome with thoughts, trying to understand what had happened.

_Who was this Hershel Layton? The man who he'd hunted for the past age of his life was walking freely away from him, with Descole watching on. The man who, a few hours before, had been given a chance to kill him, yet he refused, he let him go. Why? Surely Layton would happily rid him, end this endless chase once and for all. But he didn't. Descole owed his life to him. There was no way he could possibly arrest Layton after he'd shown such generosity._

_But he had to. The man was a criminal, he'd stolen. He'd escaped. He'd lied. So many times, Descole could barely keep track. If he allowed him to be free now it would haunt him for the rest of his days. How did he even know this man was telling the truth about the hotel, what if he just escaped again? As he had already done._

Descole looked back over the way he came. To get to the end of the sewer, he'd crossed over the main bridge. It was sparkling in the sunset, the metal winking at him. He walked back to it, the barriers cold against his aching hands. He stepped carefully, looking down at the crashing water below. Barricade Debris floated amongst the waves, crumbling; the wind bit at Descole's face, blowing his cape behind him, giving him a spectre-like silhouette.

_Descole thought it over. Realising what he'd wanted the whole time. He wished Layton had killed him. It was Layton's right to kill him. He was in his hands and the chance arose but he refused. If he arrested Layton, he lived, owing his life to this convict. If he gave up, he could never live with himself. A waste of the past, so maybe years spent just to yield at the end. By sparing his life, Layton had killed him._

As he reached the centre of the bridge, Descole leant over the barrier, the noise of the water seeming to increase tremendously.

_There wasn't enough room in this world for both Descole and Layton. For this nightmare to finally end, one of them had to be defeated._

_And Descole refused to be beaten by him._

He climbed onto the side of the barrier, gripping tightly to the sides. The drop looked so much larger with nothing to block the view. Descole took a deep breath, looking up as the final rays of the sun faded. He felt no fear as he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you've read up to here, hey! I hope you enjoyed this bizarre story I wrote, I genuinely hope someone out there had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. This is where I got up to in my original story, and then life got in the way and I never came back to it.
> 
> So if you'd wanna see it completed, let me know! I'm definitely down to finish off this monster
> 
> (between me dropping this story and now, I've seen Les Mis in London and also performed the songs in a showcase so my obsession is still very much there)


	19. Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

Clive awoke slowly in a place he didn’t recognise. His body ached, and the morning sun hurt his eyes as he tried to work out where he was. There wasn’t a sign of the London street, and the air was devoid of any sounds of fighting. He felt a great pain as he tried to sit up and noticed a cast round his arm, with a towel pressed to his forehead. Pulling himself out of bed carefully he looked around.

The place seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. He made his way down the corridor, stopping at the top of the staircase and calling out feebly. A young voice responded to him and Flora came running up the stairs, looking concerned. He smiled when he saw her, despite his confusion. He was sure she was gone forever. Or that he’d die before seeing her again. She spoke with worry, holding his arm.

“It’s good to see you up again. Are you feeling okay?” Clive nodded at her, but was distracted by the luxurious room around him.

“Yes. But… Where am I?”

“The Hotel Duke.” Flora pointed Clive to what was beyond the bannisters, a busy lobby of workers, there was a younger woman at the desk speaking with a man, he assumed to be Flora’s dad.. “They say you were found lying in the street.”

“I don’t understand….”

“Last night, you were found injured. You looked as if you’d been attacked.” The pain in his arm started again, as if recalling memories he couldn’t himself place. “But you’re safe now.” The last thing he remembered was gunshots, and the feel of water against his legs. But they said he was found in the street.

“What about the barricade…. My friends?” 

“The fighting stopped last night.” Clive smiled, perhaps he’d be able to catch them before everything was cleared away. “I’m sure you’ll be able to see them now.”

“in that case, would you be able to accompany me down to the clockshop? If the fighting is truly finished, there should be no danger.” Flora looked down at her father again. Clive could see her apprehension.

“Alright, but we’ll have to go out the back, He doesn’t want us out in the street with all the soldiers around.”

* * *

 

“Did you see them all heading out?” There was the sound of the cloth hitting the pavement as the townspeople spoke, the red stains refused to leave the stones. “They were so determined; I really thought they’d do it.” A woman frowned as she furiously scrubbed at the floor.

“They didn’t know what they were getting into, poor things.” An older man scoffed, he knew it would fail.

“They were a bunch of criminals, they were putting the very lives of our people at risk” conversations and opinions had moved back and forth all day, with nobody seeming to agree on whether the barricade had been worth anything.  Most of the people there were simply trying to help out the homeowners on the street, offering their kindness after the distress of the past few nights. But a solemn few sat together by the clock shop entrance, there in remembrance of the students.

One woman stood with a hand against the door frame, her blonde hair hastily tied behind her head and face pink, as if she’d began to cry and was struggling to conceal it. She’d come early that day, hoping to join her loved ones in their celebration. Instead, she came face to face with one as he hung, strung up from the clock hands. She’d nearly broken down at that point, touching a hand to his face. She quietly slipped inside, where the other students lay.

She doubted anything in her life could hurt as much as seeing them.

But how wrong she’d been.

Angela had stood watch at that door for the rest of the day and stopped other people from entering. She couldn’t face people making the same mistake she’d made, she had to be the one to tell them.

She found out who they were looking for and gravely passed on the news, before recounting tales about them that Randall and Henry had once told her to ease their grief. Melina Whistler entered, desperate to see her wife. Angela told her a story about how Janice had entertained them all during a late night meeting. She let Tony Barde know about his sister’s bravery when she’d come down with a disease, and the way she battled through it.

But there was nobody there to tell her about Randall, Henry and Dalston. She’d never know their final act of resistance on the top floor, nobody would.  The only people who entered the shop were Brenda and Clark Triton. There was no way to tear the family away from their son, and no one dared disturb them.

It was getting to early afternoon when Angela saw the injured boy walking towards her, leaning against a girl for support, the distress was clear in his face as he looked round. Angela spoke gravely as she told him what had happened, unaware of who he was.

“I’m very sorry, none of them made it.” She couldn’t bear to look over at the clock tower, two soldiers worked to pull the body down.

Clive stood stunned as he listened, they were all dead. Every one of them. His grip on Flora’s shoulder tightened as he felt himself almost falling.  He thanked the woman at the door before whispering to Flora, his voice cracking.

“Do you know the Thames Arms?”

* * *

 

The door creaked open as he entered alone, Flora had offered to accompany him but it felt wrong somehow, so she waited outside, ready to help if he had issues walking.

The scene in the pub was undisturbed, a relic of happier times. Flags and guns that had been missed in preparations were strewn across tables, and several mugs of beer were left on the side. He remembered the joy of that night, despite his grief at Flora leaving, he’d been caught up in the spirit of revolution.

He'd had so many good memories in this pub. Watching Janice perform songs she’d written, hearing tales of adventure from Randall. He’d had his first drink there, where he’d gotten kicked out after trying to start a fight with Dalston. But now, the place just made him miserable. He didn’t know if they planned to reopen it, but it wasn’t somewhere he planned to return to.

He had no clue what happened on the Barricade after he was hit. A bullet lodged in his arm, when he fell back he hit his head. He sat there, helpless as he watched some of his friends fall. But he was sure they were alive. They would win. How could they not. But seeing them there, lifeless. Hearing the things the people had said. He didn’t know how he had outlived them.

A handful of bullet shells sat on the table.

Clive picked them up and rolled them between his fingers. A sad realisation came into his head. He thought about a little boy, climbing over the Barricade to fetch more.

_If we’d had these, maybe Luke  wouldn’t have-_

He stopped his thought, remembering him was too painful.

Remembering all of them was too painful.

He tried to move towards the exit, memories beginning to wash over him, drowning every part of him. He hadn’t had time to grieve, his mind was focused on fighting. But he lingered on the thought for  just a moment too long.

_Luke’s frail body as the man carried him back, I should have stopped him._

He felt his legs buckle, just inches from the door.

_Emmy’s bloodied chest, she came back to help me_

His breathing got heavier as he reached for a table to steady himself.

_I watched them fall and couldn’t do a thing to save them._

Clive’s hand missed, his knees crashing into the floor

_What happened to the others, why are they dead? Why aren’t I dead?_

He could almost see his friends around him, screaming, begging for help. Every shadow seemed like a soldier starting to advance. A bottle rolled to the floor and smashed, he jumped back and yelled as if were gunfire.

Flora came rushing in, hearing the noise of him collapsing, and helped to calm him. As soon as he was able, Clive stood up and stormed out the room.

He never wanted to see that place again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so sometimes when you're a geeky theatre kid 15 year old you write a dumb fic involving your fave game and your favourite musical and sometimes people wanna read it. 
> 
> I wasn't gonna repost this cause it's such a ridiculous premise (and kinda cheesy and weird) but i was rereading it and remembered just how much damn fun I had writing it and I think it really shows that this was a true labour of love. If you're a big les mis fan you'll probably enjoy it 
> 
>  
> 
> And yeah canon family trees aren't really a thing here so ignore them. Also if I were to fully rewrite it I'd probably switch some character roles but I'm 21 and don't have time. also there is 100% spelling mistakes I've missed so I'll go back and fix them


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